


A Drop of Black Ink

by the_master_of_escapism



Series: Rise of the Dragonlord [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Betrayal, Chases, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Emotionally Confused, F/M, Fate, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, London, Love, M/M, Magic, New Year's Eve, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Romance, Scotland Yard, Secrets, Serial Killers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_master_of_escapism/pseuds/the_master_of_escapism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Present day city of London and Merlin Emrys is the new, wide-eyed, and emotionally conflicted Detective Constable in Scotland Yard. Arthur Pendragon is the arrogant, handsome and heroic Detective Sergeant.</p><p> A spiral, a signature, on a victim’s throat reopens the decades old mystery of the Old Religion and leads them into an unconventional partnership in their attempt to solve it. Unaware of it’s true extent, their involvement sparks a fated chain of events governed by magic, love, and darkness. </p><p> Magic has found a new role to play in the modern world, and London is its theatre. Merlin stands, unknowingly, at the centre of this stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out Of Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fanfic to have the wonderful Merlin characters in a London Met setting (hardly any fanfics out there with it) and to satisfy some of my own cravings - I really hope you enjoy this story with all its highs and lows ^_^ (and sorry if there are any dodgy mistakes, I've had a beta look at it but things always get through)  
> Happy reading :3  
> 

'You'll be working alongside Detective Sergeant Pendragon,' the fellow Constable said. 'He's in the office just ahead.' Gwen was what she'd asked him to call her. His first impression was Gwen telling him to ignore her proper title. It went against the rumours of how rigorous and demanding it was to work under the infamous DS Pendragon.

She led him through the main floor of investigations. There were working areas for at least thirty odd police officers, with several larger private offices at the sides. Merlin could barely fathom the enormity of Scotland Yard's central building, let alone the hundreds of people it employed. He was one of them. To fight against the evil that would try to bring London burning to the ground. At least he liked to think of it in those grand terms. Smiling to himself his curious eyes studied everything they could.

'DC Emrys?'

He stopped short of walking into her. 'Hm?'

'Are you alright?' she asked kindly.

'Yes. It's all just . . . really new. Really,' he paused, searching for the right word. 'Grand.'

'I know how you feel,' she said. 'Oh, I should warn you. Arthur, I mean Detective Sergeant Pendragon, he's had a bit of a rough week. Well, rough life. He's under a lot of pressure from his father and I think it's made him a little bit . . . overbearing.'

'Right,' Merlin murmured, eyeing her. 'His father being the Chief Superintendent?'

'Yes. You're well informed, aren't you?' she said lightly with a smile.

'Well, thanks, for the warning. I'll keep it in mind,' he reassured her.

'Good. It's your first day on the job so as long as you don't screw up-'

'I don't intend to,' he said, confidence and enthusiasm in his step.

'Then it will all be fine. I have to get back to my Pendragon now,' Gwen told him.

His brows furrowed with a puzzled look.

'Oh, there are three of them,' she clarified.

'Bloody hell, that's a bit excessive isn't it?'

'Morgana, I mean Sergeant Pendragon, she's Arthur's sister.'

'Doesn't work with the CID then?'

'Oh no. She wanted to take "her own path",' Gwen explained, quoting in the air with her fingers. 'That's what she calls it.'

'But still chose to join the Met, like her brother and father?'

'I guess it runs in their blood.'

'I guess so,' he murmured. The name Pendragon struck a chord but he didn't know why.

'Well, good luck,' she wished him sweetly, straightening her white uniform shirt and heading over to one of the desks. Watching her go his eyes locked with those of who could only be Morgana. Ice blue rings encircling burning black coals. Strikingly clear. Painfully sharp. He'd find them pretty if they didn't send a shiver of fear up his spine. He'd learned to trust his instincts and they screamed at him about her. But she smiled. The terrifying stranger pulled up her red lips to reveal a wonderful and enthralling smile. Forcing a small one in return he ducked his head and walked forward.

Shaking the uncomfortable feeling away he prepared himself and knocked against the glass door. Its silver plaque read 'Detective Chief Inspector'.

'Come in,' a crackling voice commanded, and Merlin obeyed, closing the door behind himself. An old man sat behind a desk, holding several papers with a look of deep contemplation. Hovering just beside him was a young man. Blonde dishevelled hair and blue eyes, like Morgana's. Only he didn't feel fear staring into them. Instead he felt something he couldn't really describe. An entirely new feeling. It was a maelstrom of concern, warmth, intrigue and respect. The rush of emotions came out of nowhere and his breath hitched for a moment. 'I'm DCI Kilgharrah. Most shorten that to K. You would be DC Emrys, correct?'

Merlin cleared his throat and fetched up another smile. 'That's me.'

'You have got to be kidding,' the young man groaned, looking up to the ceiling with exasperation pulling at his features. 'This is my new Constable?'

'DS Pendragon, he isn't your anything. He belongs to no one and nothing, but this city's justice. He will, however, be working with you for the foreseeable future,' the old man said with a stern glare at his subordinate.

'I can assure you I am capable. Otherwise I wouldn't have made it this far,' Merlin interjected with a more genuine grin.

'Oh, I don't doubt that for a second. It's just you don't seem the type who could defend an innocent in the face of harm. More the . . . sit-at-a-desk-and-file-paperwork type,' DS Pendragon chided, and Merlin felt the odd mixture of feelings in his chest twinge with something akin to fondness before twisting into a much more potent, and welcomed, dislike. He broadened his stance.

'Yes, well, it's not your decision who you have to work with. As it isn't mine either,' he snapped, catching his tongue before he could say something more offensive.

'If you two are quite done, I think you should get started on the Old Religion case,' DCI Kilgharrah huffed.

'The what?' D.S. Pendragon asked, giving Merlin one last glare of disdain before turning to face the old man. 'I haven't finished with-'

'This takes precedence,' the DCI cut him off, raising a decisive hand. 'Your cases will be passed onto another Detective.'

'They're my cases! I've been working on the one with Morgana for the past six months,' DS Pendragon erupted with his wounded pride. 'Gathering intel, getting witnesses to trust us enough-'

'And she'll be fine closing it on her own,' DCI Kilgharrah said sternly. 'Not that she should be involved with it in the first place.'

Merlin took a few steps towards the glass desk. 'Out of curiosity, what is the Old Region case?'

DS Pendragon gave him a scornful look.

'A series of murders by the same group. They claim to be a part of the so called "Old Religion". It would be classed as terrorism and passed onto another division if it weren't for DS Pendragon,' Kilgharrah explained, shooting an accusatory glance at the Superintendent's son. 'A few hours ago we found another body.'

'Where?' DS Pendragon inquired, his tone dripping with authority. At the news of a body he'd forgotten all his previous concerns and seemed completely involved in what DCI Kilgharrah had to say. Merlin found the ease of transition remarkable. Impressive even. Then he drowned those thoughts and let the irritation flourish.

'The basement of Regis House. We've managed to close down the first few floors, but there are some important IT corporations stationed there, so you may have to deal with some prying eyes.'

'Not a problem,' DS Pendragon said, and Merlin felt that fondness return for a second before he squashed it into nothingness.

'You'll also be going underground,' the D.C.I. continued.

'Underground?' Merlin questioned in surprise.

'Are you naturally this thick or do you work at it?' the blonde quipped.

'Boys,' Kilgharrah warned. 'It's not a well known fact, DS Pendragon, so his shock is perfectly understandable. You see, DC Emrys, it's the entrance to a closed down section of the Underground, once used for shelter in the Second World War and-'

'With all due respect, K, we don't need a history lesson,' DS Pendragon asserted and turned to Merlin. 'Come on, DC Emrys. Time to see if you can cut it here at Scotland Yard.'

Merlin stepped out the way just as the DS brushed past, clapping him on the shoulder with unconscious force. He was just about to follow when he heard K clear his throat. Looking back at the old man he was caught in a suffocating stare.

'I'm sure you'll do well to conduct yourself professionally,' he remarked, watching Merlin with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

'Of course,' Merlin said.

'And follow any orders given?'

'Obviously.'

'You have a lot of potential here, Merlin,' the man noted with a dark tone. Was it a warning or a compliment?

The strange use of his first name put him a little on edge. 'I'm glad you think so?'

'Well then. Your commanding officer awaits, young Constable.'

Merlin nodded to him, eyeing him with curiosity for one more second before he left. DCI Kilgharrah had this strange sense about him, as if he knew something important but would never say anything. The shine in his eyes kept them youthful while the rest of his body had succumbed to age. The wrinkles, the grey hair that had begun overriding the previous dark ones and the ridiculous amount of patience. Merlin could never be so peaceful, patient and compliant in terms of time. Every word he'd spoken had been slow and thought about before spoken. Merlin usually spoke his thoughts without vetting. So, in retrospect he perhaps needed to borrow some of K's well honed patience.

'DC Emrys!' a voice bellowed behind him and Merlin snapped back into reality, awkwardly tripping slightly as he left the office and ran after the DS.

Merlin stifled a cough as he followed DS Pendragon down an uncomfortably small stairwell. The lighting was poor and the resultant shadows gave a wonderfully eerie atmosphere to the surreal experience. The walls consisted of aged brick work and cobwebs hung hauntingly from the ceiling, no doubt defying the earnest efforts of the Regis House employees.

'Who found the body?' he asked the policeman leading them down to the basement, the staircase narrow and steep.

'A technician. Apparently they use this place to house optic fibres. They feed them through several small tunnels.'

'Tunnels large enough for a person to fit through?' DS Pendragon inquired, Merlin hiding a grin at the ease with which they had begun their partnership.

'Not if they need to breathe. The station beneath hasn't been entered by a human for more than fifty years. Only the small service tunnels have been touched,' the policeman informed them. 'They just feed the fibres through from one end to the other.'

Merlin suppressed a shudder; the space seemed incredibly small at the man's words, and he'd never been fond of small places. 'Could it be, though? Entered by a human, I mean.'

'Like I said, the air is impossible to breathe and half of it's probably flooded, so no,' he said before reaching the base of the stairs. Several people in white suits shifted about the dimly lit area, taking samples and bagging evidence. Every now and then there was a blinding flash of a camera. 'If you wouldn't mind suiting up before entering the crime scene?'

The officer left and DS Pendragon scoffed. 'He's a bloody PC and thinks we don't know procedure?'

'I'm sure he didn't mean it like that,' Merlin said as he grabbed the cold fabric and began tugging it on over his uniform. DC Pendragon wore a suit instead. Plain-clothes suited him. The way the waistcoat accented his hip to shoulder ratio was impossibly perfect- Professional. He just looked rather professional. That's why they suited him.

'So, what's your name?' DS Pendragon asked nonchalantly, pulling up the zip on the front of the white suit.

'DC Emrys,' Merlin replied with a frown. He knew his name already, didn't he?

'First name, you idiot.'

'Oh! Wait, why do you want to know?'

'No one uses formalities, at least not if we aren't with K. He's a stickler for protocol,' DS Pendragon explained. Merlin couldn't help but note how each movement the Pendragon made was determined and sure. It was impossible for one person to have such confidence, such unfaltering arrogance, all shown in just a simple act as putting on a suit. 'Call me Arthur.'

Merlin hesitated before saying, 'I'm Merlin.'

'What kind of a name is that?' DS Pendragon - Arthur - asked with a low laugh.

'I didn't choose it,' he defended but a smile spread quickly on his face.

'I can tell,' Arthur said with a smirk before ducking under the police tape. When Merlin found himself hovering over the body beside his new co-worker the collision of odd sensations returned. Only amplified ten fold and tainted with a darker substance. He studied the girl laying dead at his feet, yet unmoved or covered.

Death he could handle. Strangely so in fact. This was different though. Her eyes were wide open, glazed over, but the fear still shone through. Her features caught in the moment of her end, capturing the terror.

'Why does she look like that?' he choked out, his imagination hitting overdrive and beginning the torment. That's why he solved homicide cases. He felt the pain, the suffering, more so than he thought possible, and he had to put them to rest. Put their killers in chains and behind bars.

'Clearly she was scared out of her mind,' Arthur said calmly, crouching down and staring at her throat. Merlin followed his line of sight to see the black ink, spiralling in a circle into a single point in the centre. 'That's the sign of the Old Religion and, if I've read the files well enough, means there's more murder to come.'

'What do you mean?' Merlin asked.

'The spiral symbolises a cycle. A cycle of death if you wouldn't have guessed it. They work in cycles and they've been through two so far. That's what we know anyway' Arthur said. 'Each cycle has had six murders.'

'So, if they're not stopped, five more people die,' he said thickly. The pressure started to drag him down.

'Exactly, Merlin. You're catching on already,' Arthur remarked with a sarcastic smile as he stood up and began studying the area.

'Why the throat?'

'We had a psychological analyser work on the last case, several years ago. It was before my time, but apparently she claimed they draw it on their throats in celebration of their screams.'

Merlin swallowed heavily. He'd been at murder scenes before but never for something like this. Never for something so ritualistic, cruel, and endless. Then he saw it. In the floor there was an indent running round in a large loop. Dust layered most things but the indents were being cleared out by a member of forensics.

Turning to one of the PCs he pointed at the circle and asked, 'What is that?'

'A manhole. Nothing important. No one could survive down there,' the man answered, dismissing it without a second thought.

'Right. It's the entrance to that Underground station, isn't it?'

'Yep. Hasn't been opened. You can tell. The dirt hasn't been moved much. If that thing had opened, we'd know it,' he explained with the kind of pride Merlin had found so many in the Met possessed. Arrogance could be another word for it.

'Merlin, if you're done chatting up the police officer, would you mind getting over here?' Arthur beckoned.

Merlin headed over to him, avoiding the forensics team as best he could. 'I was not chatting him up.'

'Sure you weren't.'

Sighing he let it go. 'What did you find?'

'Nothing more than we have already,' he said with a disappointed sigh.

'What? Nothing?'

'Forensics need to analyse the evidence and we've concluded it was the Old Religion,' Arthur explained. 'There's nothing else we can do. At least not here.'

'What about other clues?' Merlin pressed, finding the lack of enthusiasm from Arthur peculiar.

'Like?'

Merlin floundered for a moment. He felt it in his gut. There was something there. How could that be explained without him sounding a complete and utter idiot? 'Well, I don't know, but-'

'But nothing. Our efforts will be best spent researching the past crimes, looking for links and re-interviewing past suspects,' Arthur listed before Merlin cut him off, the entrance to the station in the corner of his eye.

'What about down under,' he said with a devilish smile. 'Personally, I'm not convinced that it wasn't opened.'

'The dust clearly indicates-'

'Does it though?'

'Unless magic's involved, no one's been down there,' Arthur said with harsh finality.

Merlin felt it shift beneath his skin. Like a drug it set his sensations alight, clawing and burning to be released. He'd never known what that sensation was, but it was there at that moment. Which terrified him.

'Please?'

'You heard the officer, you can't even breathe properly,' Arthur reasoned.

'Then we can get masks,' Merlin said.

'Why are so adamant to go down there?'

'It's just a feeling. Don't you ever follow your gut instinct?'

Arthur stared him skeptically. 'Fine. We'll take a look. Tomorrow though. For now we should look back over the old cases.'

'Thank you,' Merlin said just as Arthur shot him a stern glare.

'I'm not agreeing out of the kindness of my heart, Merlin. I just have the same gut feeling,' he said. 'So, why don't we get some coffee and pay a visit to the Met Archives?'

'Right you are, Sire,' Merlin said cheerily before catching his last word. Sire? 'I mean, Sergeant. Arthur. Not, not sire-'

'I quite like it. If I'm your sire, then you'd be what? My manservant?' he suggested with an evil grin while ducking back under the tape and tugging off the suit. Merlin's stomach knotted and he followed with burning cheeks. Again, the - whatever it was - rolled lazily through his veins, buzzing with excited energy. He pulled down the white fabric and watched as Arthur climbed the stairs, on the phone to K.

'We're gonna check out the files; let forensics do their thing and then we'll move out from there,' he recounted into the phone, his voice fading slightly as the distance between them grew. 'DC Emrys? He hasn't screwed up. Not yet anyway.'

Merlin felt his lips twitch into a smile. Putting the suit in a bundle on the table, he gave one last glance at the crime scene before leaving.

The shadows seemed to cling to him even when he'd left and was sat in the passenger side of the car. Arthur was concentrating on the traffic while Merlin focused on the warmth of the car's heater, the muffled noise of the city outside, the patter of rain on the windshield as it began to fall from the grey sky. Early morning and already the weather had turned.

'Why do you think they do it?' Merlin asked softly, closing his eyes to find the images of the spiral, the girl's eyes, waiting for him. He let them bore into his mind.

'Do what?'

'The Old Religion. Is it a game to them? Do they kill for a purpose?'

'Jesus, talk about morbid conversation,' Arthur muttered.

'Comes with the job, doesn't it?'

He heard Arthur sigh. 'I wish I knew. They seem to kill randomly, and the way they do it is still a mystery. For god's sakes who 'they' are is still a mystery.'

'Is that why you were so quick to dismiss the crime scene itself?' Merlin asked, eye lids flicking open as they pulled up to a traffic light turning red.

'Yes.'

'But this time you had the gut feeling, didn't you?'

'That I did,' Arthur said with a grim smile. 'So, how long have you been with the Met?'

Merlin let his eyes close again, relaxing into the casual and relaxed topic change. 'What about you?'

'Rather evasive,' Arthur mused with mock suspicion in his tone. 'Five years.'

'And you're already a plain-clothes DS?'

'Joined when I was eighteen and studied part time at Westminster. I got my BA last year,' he said with pride. 'A degree and talent can get you far in the world.'

'Bachelor of Arts?' Merlin queried.

'Oh, right. I studied Criminology,' he said.

'Huh.'

'What?' Arthur asked, taking Merlin's acknowledgement to be judgement.

'Didn't figure you for the Uni type, that's all,' Merlin mused.

'Didn't you go to university?'

'Of course I did,' he snapped.

'Where?'

'Oxford.'

Arthur scoffed. 'Figures. I'm stuck with a pretentious idiot for a DC.'

'I am not pretentious!'

'But you are an idiot,' Arthur noted with a smile. 'Here we are then.'

The car jostled slightly as it drove over a speed bump and stopped in front of a towering building. They climbed out and ran through the rain to the refuge of the lobby. Merlin pulled out his badge, flashing it to a security guard before he approached the reception desk. The marble floor reflected the amber hue of the lights, the sound of their footsteps clear and joined by the sound of rainfall outside. The only two sounds in the otherwise deathly quiet building.

The young woman looked up and recognition sparked in her eyes.

'Detective Sergeant Pendragon,' she said with a playful smile, leaning forwards over the counter. 'Please tell me this is a social call?'

'Sorry, Kate. We were drunk, I was young and right now I'd like to see the Old Religion files,' Arthur replied with a courteous smile. Merlin raised a brow at the scene before him. Ignoring his request she leaned to the side and gave Merlin a once over.

'Are you his new partner?'

'DC Emrys,' Merlin said.

'Thank god you're a guy. If not I'd have had competition,' the young woman said with a not so innocent joy.

'Like I said: Drunk,' Arthur reminded her matter-of-factly. 'The files, if you please, officer?'

She huffed and pulled out a set of keys. 'Fine, fine. Follow me.'

'Thank you,' Arthur said with exasperation, giving Merlin an apologetic smile. As she led the way Arthur walked in step with him. 'Sorry about her.'

'Why? I'm not one to judge,' Merlin said, tucking his hands into his trousers.

'There's something about you,' Arthur mused, mostly to himself. Ahead, the young woman, Kate, unlocked a door and called back, 'Come on then, officers!'

Merlin felt like he stood on a precipice, wanting Arthur to continue and just say something else. The DS titled his head slightly and shook it with an odd smile, ducking away from Merlin's gaze and heading through the door. Hissing out a breath he'd been holding in anticipation of something, Merlin followed. Kate led them through into a huge expanse of storage cabinets with the one lonely desk to the side. It was a terrifying maze of corridors and metal, shadows and dim light.

'The files are over here,' she said and turned down a corridor to open one of the cabinet sections. The door screeched as she moved it out of the way.

'That's a lot,' Merlin noted, staring with awe at a collection of more than just papers and boxes, but evidence bags by the dozens.

'Twelve serial murders, what did you expect?' Arthur said and thanked Kate who left them. Not before giving her phone number to Arthur on a piece of paper that is. Merlin saw him discreetly stuff it away into his trouser pocket. The transgression was bizarrely irksome for him to watch so he focused on the cabinet.

'So,' Merlin began, clapping his hands together and staring at over a decade's worth of case files and evidence. 'Where do we start?'

They didn't leave him alone. Persistent. Cold. Shadows. Staring at the crime scene photos, he didn't see mutilated bodies. He didn't see blood or gore. He saw fear. A fear he could barely imagine yet he could almost taste the terror in the air itself. A stagnant, bitter odour left behind. In his mind their shadows rushed, tearing into him and deafening him with their screams. Silent screams.

'Are you okay?'

Merlin ran a shaking hand through his hair.

'Merlin?'

'Yeah, I just,' he paused, flicking the file shut and leaning back in the chair. 'It's ridiculous, that's all.'

'I know how you feel,' Arthur said sympathetically. Looking up Merlin watched him tidy the papers in front of him and pile them up in a stack. 'We've been here for hours and nothing of note has come up.'

'Oh god,' Merlin breathed. 'Stating the obvious, now that's always a bad sign.'

Arthur laughed softly. 'Shut up, Merlin.'

The tingle beneath his skin flared, the heat lashing out in his chest for a split moment.

'Forensics haven't called, have they?' he asked quickly, doubting his own sanity. He could still hear them, faint and muffled and getting quieter by the second. Still there though. Screams that weren't screams. Then he had the increasingly volatile sensations to contend with.

'Not yet. Look, how about we just call it a night? There aren't any clear lines of enquiry to pursue so-'

His mobile rang out and Arthur quickly took it from his pocket to answer. Merlin watched his face as he absorbed the information.

'Thanks, and call if anything else crops up? Good, right then, bye.' Hanging up he looked back to Merlin, his tired expression morphing seamlessly into one of triumph. 'Looks like our gut feelings were right. This case has one difference to all the others.'

'What?'

'They found a hair,' Arthur said his eyes alight with the new possibilities.

'Have they traced the DNA on the database?'

'Yeah, but no matches. Still, we know she's blonde and we have her DNA which is more than we've ever had before,' he said, drawing out the silver lining.

'And we know it's a she,' Merlin added.

'Exactly.'

'Might not be the killer's though,' he realised.

'Well, tomorrow we can do a check of anyone the victim may have had contact with, and move on from there,' Arthur said with finality, his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up. 'Now, we can go home.'

'Just one thing,' Merlin started, packing up the files as quickly as he could with Arthur. 'Why only now would the killer leave their DNA when in all other cases there was no trace left at all?'

'Maybe it wasn't as planned out,' he suggested as he helped Merlin carry the boxes back to their shelves. 'Hurried maybe?'

'Still no motive for any of the killings,' Merlin said grimly. 'And without knowing the thinking behind them I doubt we can wonder about any planning that went into it.'

Arthur sighed. 'You're such a pessimist.'

'I like to think of myself as more of a realist.'

'A depressing one, then,' Arthur corrected and clapped Merlin on the shoulder as he walked by. 'Need a lift?'

Merlin slid the door across, hiding the horror. At last he could begin to focus fully on something other than the unsolved murders. 'If it's not too much hassle.'

'Of course it's not,' he said with a smile. 'Come on.'

The clash of warmth and lingering cold in his body was dizzying. Arthur seemed to make the coldness of the deaths more manageable. Whether that was because it helped keep Merlin from dwindling in his mind too much or because Arthur himself had some strange significance, he had no idea.

Back in the car Merlin fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Night hadn't even fallen yet and they were calling it quits.

'There must be something more we can do,' he implored, finding the thought of simply ending the day's work unbearable.

'You spent most of your first day on this team reading files,' Arthur said, darting his eyes to Merlin every now and then. 'And you don't want to go home?'

'No,' Merlin answered firmly, as if it could hardly count as a question. Obviously he wanted to have done something other than read those files. He scoured desperately for that something, and there it was waiting. 'What about the gut feeling?'

'What about it? That we were right?'

'Yes, but mine was about the manhole, not just this case in particular,' Merlin explained. 'The one discounted by forensics because no dust had moved?'

Arthur sighed. 'You want to go down there, don't you?'

'Don't you?' he countered, searching Arthur's face for a sign of mutual understanding. Instead he found a stern glare, the striking blue eyes looking aged and battle worn, a disturbing combination of youthful strength and a weariness.

'Oh, alright,' Arthur finally murmured. He turned on the indicator and took a sharp left turn back to Regis House.


	2. Ambrosia

Merlin knelt beside the entrance, his fingers tracing the borders with the cold dust and grime rolling out of the way.

 ‘Shall we?’ Arthur asked behind him. They’d both pulled on suits and gloves, and the PC standing guard had had no objections to their plans. Forensics had done their part and the woman’s body had been taken away for further investigation. Everything seemed to point to the manhole being key. Everything moving out the way for them as the dust did for his fingers.

 ‘Yeah,’ he said standing up and moving to the side. Arthur moved to the other and they both hooked their fingers into the carved out handles. ‘Count of three?’

 ‘One,’ Arthur started, ‘Two. Three.’

 Merlin felt his muscles strain for only a second before they’d successfully lifted the cement, pushing it up and over. The hinges complained but were silenced when it’s heavy mass slammed down out of the way. Staring down he couldn’t see a thing, just the darkness and the vague shape of steps.

 ‘Should we get helmets or something?’ Merlin inquired, looking up at Arthur.

 Arthur shook his head. ‘Nah, we’ll be fine.’

 Merlin tried his best to squash the anxiety building in his chest. That was one problem he could never get over. His heart rate sped up and beat heavily in his chest in the anticipation of danger, of the unknown. Only when faced with the thing itself did he calm down. It was stupid in so many ways, but then he was grateful he experienced that calm which had saved his life before and would do so again.

 ‘What does your gut feeling tell you now?’ Arthur was holding a torch out to him, clearly having noticed the slight apprehension, fear even, on his face.

 ‘That this is stupid,’ Merlin said honestly and mulled on it for a second longer. ‘Also that there’s something down there that can help with the case.’

 ‘Even though it hasn’t been opened in decades?’ Arthur pressed as Merlin took the torch and switched it on, the beam of light cutting through the darkness.

 ‘It’s easy to rearrange some dust though, isn’t it? Like putting a rug over a trap door.’

 ‘True,’ Arthur said, grabbing his own light from the table to the side. There were several, in case the main lights had a problem and faltered. Returning he rolled his shoulders with a shine in his eyes. ‘After you.’

 ‘Me?’

 ‘Not scared, are you? Come along, Detective Constable,’ Arthur said, standing out of the way and indicating with his arm.

 Merlin paused before he placed his foot on the first step, the sturdiness serving some comfort. Then the next step down, and the next, carefully descending with a tight grip on the torch. Just as his head was about to duck below the basement floor, he stopped.

 ‘We forgot about masks,’ Merlin admitted with worry. No wonder he’d felt uneasy. He was the one who’d suggested them in the first place. He could hear Arthur huffing out a long breath above him.

 ‘Do we really need them?’ Arthur asked, but the obvious concern in his voice strangled the validity of his question.

 ‘You were the one who made the point about not being able to breathe,’ Merlin reminded him. Yet the uneasiness he felt couldn’t override the feeling that he needed to go down. He had to. Staring down he could see nothing but the black emptiness, undisturbed for decades or mere hours. It drew out the images of the woman, of the past victims, of the screaming that was never heard.

 ‘I can call Gwen and see what she can do,’ Arthur suggested meagerly.

 ‘You do that,’ Merlin murmured with the darkness tugging at his clothes and the cold air wrapping around his skin, pulling him further down. Down another step, down one more. He had to see, to know, what was down.

 ‘Merlin?’ Arthur called. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

 ‘Gut feeling,’ he replied quietly, placing his foot onto the final step. Lifting the torch up he shined it ahead, making out the rounded metal beams of the tunnel and the cables running along the side. The air was stale and flecks of dust floated and danced in the light, bright against the darkness still pushing against him, urging him onwards.

 ‘Merlin, just hold on a second,’ Arthur shouted down to him. He contemplated waiting but, as he’d always thought, time was a gift you’re never given till death. Morbid saying, but true in a way. Why waste a second?

 So he pressed forward, the ground absorbing the sound of his steps. Soon silence was settled around him, Arthur having stopped his protests and chosen not to follow. Merlin could feel his breathing get deeper as the air became even staler, but he hadn’t found anything yet.

 Turning around the corner he came to the platform for the disused station; barren and abandoned. Old war posters clung to the walls, and illuminating one he saw a cartoon bomb with claws of fire stretching out, a swastika etched into its body. ‘BRITAIN SHALL NOT BURN’ it went on to say. The sirens wailed in his ears. He could hear the rumble of aircraft engines in the sky and the whistle of death as it cut down through the night to swallow the innocent buildings and people with fire. Burning. The roaring flames amid the quietness of fear.

 Looking away he continued along the stretch of the platform.

 Several exists had been bricked up and as he stepped passed he saw water trickling through the mortar, pooling at the bases. Then he saw the one thing that didn’t belong. Amongst all the mess of puddles, grime and fallen metal fixtures, there was some fabric caught on a doorway’s hinge. The door itself was no where to be seen, but Merlin kept focused on the silhouette of the fabric.

 Upon close inspection he could make out the dull red colour; rust and blood mixed together. It was leather, the torchlight shining against its coated surface. The small room it belonged to had another staircase which twisted round and up behind a wall, leading to what must have been another exit. An exit not accounted for.

 Dragging in a laboured breath Merlin took an unsteady step backwards. He could feel the effects of the poor air, the lack of oxygen making his muscles ache slightly. He carefully removed the scrap of leather from where it was hooked, trapping it in his gloved hand, and began making his way back.

 Eyes locked on the light he tried to ignore how the air seemed to pulse, the shadows shaking around him. He was back in the main tunnel. Merlin lifted one foot then the next, watching the white light as it gave colour to the brown dirt on the ground.

 ‘Arthur,’ he tried to call, but it was too quiet. As he got closer to the staircase the air became richer, cleaner, but his body was already dragging him down. Shoulder pressed against the curved wall he steadied himself and took in a few slow breaths, feeling his head swim. Again the wailing sirens and whistle of the bombs as they fell polluted his mind. He could practically feel the heat of the flames, smell the smoke which coiled up and up into the sky.

 ‘Merlin, is that you?’ someone called.

 Pushing away with cobwebs clinging to the suit, he made one last attempt to get up. Up and away from the fire, away from the suffering and away from the dead.

 ‘Merlin!’

 A figure rushed towards him, hooking their head under his arm and carrying him the rest of the way out. Blinded by the intensity of the lights his eyes took a second to adjust. Arthur was forcing him to sit down, with someone else hovering behind him.

 ‘What happened?’ she asked entirely distraught with his bad state.

 ‘He went down there before you could get here with the masks,’ Arthur said.

 ‘Why didn’t you go down and get him?’ Gwen, her kind voice something he couldn’t forget, asked as she knelt beside him, pressing her fingers against his throat.

 ‘I did.’

 ‘You did?’ Merlin said with surprise, still reeling from the sudden wealth of air he was breathing.

 ‘There were too many rooms and different paths to know for sure where you’d gone,’ Arthur said, ‘and then Gwen arrived.’

 ‘Really, Arthur, you didn’t have to stop looking for him on my account,’ she assured him.

 ‘What use would looking have been if I was unconscious like he almost was?’

 ‘I didn’t though,’ Merlin interjected with a fool’s pride. ‘Fall unconscious. I didn’t.’

 ‘That is remarkable,’ Gwen noted. ‘You must have been down there for almost half an hour.’

 ‘Time flies by,’ Merlin said and gave them both a small smile. His clenched fist reminded him of his success and stood up, in spite of Arthur’s protests. ‘I found some evidence.’

 ‘What is it?’ Gwen asked, a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes.

 Merlin presented it to them. ‘Some torn leather, maybe from a jacket or bag. I can’t be sure.’

 ‘More likely a jacket,’ Arthur said, picking it up and examining it before dropping it into an evidence bag. ‘Can you do one thing for me, Merlin?’

 ‘What?’

 Arthur rounded up on him, his face only a few intimidating inches away. ‘Don’t ever do something so stupid ever again. Okay?’

 ‘Okay,’ Merlin said slowly.

 ‘Well, for a first day you certainly make an impression, Merlin,’ Gwen piped up, hands fidgeting with the masks she’d brought and a warm smile on her face.

 ‘Yeah, he certainly does. A suicidal idiot,’ Arthur said as he passed the evidence bag to Merlin.

 ‘Now that’s a stretch too far, don’t you think?’ Merlin asked with a grin, hoping he wasn’t serious as he took the bag.

 ‘Prove me wrong, and sure. See you tomorrow,’ Arthur said definitively, snapping off the gloves and heading up the stairs without another word.

 ‘Are you alright getting home?’ Gwen asked him, the confusion of Arthur’s departure written over her face but an almost maternal concern overriding it.

 ‘Mhm,’ he hummed. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

 ‘Sure?’

 ‘Positive,’ he assured her.

 Satisfied she walked to the stairs, turning to say, ‘See you in the morning, then.’

 Once Gwen had left he looked down to the leather. The heat dripped its way into his veins again, rolling through him as his oxygen deprived memories whispered back to him. Britain shall not burn. The blaze, the blitz. The entrance that no one knew existed. Puffing out a long breath he folded the evidence bag and dropped it into a box left on the table.

 His mind wandered as he pulled off the suit and the plastic covers for his shoes. Systematically shedding away the crime scene eased the thoughts back into a temporary slumber. It gave him some respite, which he clung to as he caught a taxi back to his small flat.

 

 

 ‘Who’s the new guy?’

They all turned to watch Merlin as he made his way over. The sudden attention put him on edge, but he continued forward to stand near them, gathered around two large boards.

 ‘Everyone, meet DC Merlin Emrys,’ Gwen announced kindly, hopping up from her perch on the desk and passing him a coffee. ‘It’s cappuccino.’

 ‘Thanks,’ he said taking the warm cup in hand. His eyes scanned the members of what he assumed to be the murder investigation team. Arthur seemed to be absorbed by the pictures and notes he was adding to the boards, ignoring him entirely. Gwen looked keen and helpful. The strangers were another matter. The one who’d asked about him wore an easy smile, his entire presence exuding confidence. Another was taller, built like a warrior and had a stern but handsome expression. The next had curly hair, reminding him of a lion’s mane, and the last seemed more drawn back, quieter, but no less proud than the others.

 ‘Got a girlfriend?’ the easy smiled man asked abruptly, drawing everyone’s eyes and a shocked expression on Gwen’s part. Arthur froze for a second but continued his notes a moment later.

 ‘Um,’ Merlin began, caught off guard. ‘No, I haven’t.’

 ‘Is that because you’re not really trying, got bad luck or they’re not your type?’ he continued, his Irish accent thick and charming with each word.

 ‘Gwaine, is that really relevant?’ the lion inquired with authority, a little like Arthur.

 ‘It’s just a question, Leon,’ Gwaine said, a mischievous smile plastered onto his face. ‘So, Merlin, which is it?’

 ‘Combination of the first two,’ he answered, frowning slightly in thought. ‘Don’t know about the third, the others sort of prevented that, uh, line of enquiry.’

 ‘You’ve never had a girlfriend?’ Gwen asked with incredulity.

 ‘No, I have had a girlfriend, a few actually,’ Merlin quickly corrected. ‘It’s just nothing’s ever been serious enough or lasted long enough to really know.’

 ‘I see,’ Gwaine said, watching him with fascination, resting his cup on his knee. ‘You’re an odd one, aren’t you Merlin?’

 ‘From what Arthur’s told me he’s suicidal,’ Leon remarked, his faith lying in the DS’s opinion more than the others’.

 ‘Oh, not that again,’ Gwen said in his defence. ‘He found evidence, didn’t die, and didn’t hurt himself. That’s hardly what I’d call suicidal.’

 ‘Actually, now that you mention it,’ Merlin began, ‘there was another entrance to the station.’

 Arthur stopped scrawling a name on the board and turned to face him. ‘A second entrance?’

 ‘Where I found the fabric; There was another set of stairs,’ he informed him, the dark passageway forming in his memory perfectly. Each dirty and cracked brick, loosened screw and splintered wood.

 ‘Why didn’t you mention this when I dragged you out?’

 ‘I was a bit distracted by your whole threatening and intimidation thing,’ Merlin explained, realising how stupid it sounded and taking a resigned sip of the cappuccino.

 ‘Apart from stairs, did you actually look to see if it was an entrance?’ Arthur interrogated, folding his arms.

 Clearing his throat Merlin replied, ‘I was nearly at the point of passing out, so I decided to get out instead.’

 ‘You didn’t check it out?’ the warrior man asked harshly.

 ‘That’s what the man said, Percy,’ Gwaine interjected.

 ‘What’s all this squabble about?’ K asked, approaching them with a wary eye.

 ‘DC Emrys made a discovery last night,’ the quiet one explained, now for the first time really looking at Merlin. He recognised a warmth in the man’s eyes that resembled Gwen’s. ‘That and his lack of love in life. Not to mention suicidal tendencies.’

 ‘Is this true, DS Pendragon?’ K questioned Arthur with a pursed mouth.

 ‘Elyan’s no liar. All entirely relevant to the case, I assure you Superintendent,’ Arthur remarked with a charming smile, and a glare to Merlin that could freeze the hottest summer.

 ‘His love life is relevant, is it?’ K continued, enjoying the entertaining situation. Merlin watched with bewilderment at the conversation unfolding before him. He’d never seen a superior react so unusually.

 ‘It gives us an insight into his frame of mind,’ Arthur speculated. ‘I’d prefer not to be working with someone who’s cheated on previous partners, for instance.’

 ‘That’s rather judging of you, Arthur,’ Morgana said with delicately down turned lips. She moved with an unnerving smoothness and slid her pale eyes across them all before locking onto Merlin’s.

 ‘I read this article about how a person’s past relationships can give an indication into things like a higher probability to lie or to betray, that kind of thing,’ Gwen cheerfully offered up to the conversation, clearly uncomfortable with where it was going.

 ‘Just stay on task, Sergeant. Oh and, Merlin?’ K said as he began to retreat back to his duties. ‘If you’re going to risk your life, do it for the sake of saving someone else. A thirst for knowledge is healthy, but there’s a line you’d do well not to cross.’

 Merlin nodded, noticing how K gave a pointed look towards Arthur and then back to him, a twinkle in his eyes. The motion was strange but too fast for Merlin to analyse.

 ‘I’d like to have a word with you at some point, Detective Constable,’ he added cryptically before leaving them to their work. The next moment everyone turned to see a girl being escorted to an interview room, her eyes red and cheeks wet.

 ‘Who is that?’ Merlin asked, transfixed by the distraught girl passing out of sight into the room.

 ‘A friend of the victim’s,’ Arthur filled him in.

 ‘Charlotte,’ Gwen corrected. ‘A friend of Charlotte’s. She deserves a name, Arthur.’

 Merlin watched as Arthur gave Gwen a soft look. ‘Yes, of course. Not the victim. Charlotte.’

 Gwen smiled in return and Merlin felt it in his chest again. This time no warmth or comfort but hollow recognition. His hands felt cold, and his heartbeat heavy at the moment the two were sharing. Turning away he cleared his throat and moved quickly over to his desk. He forced himself to notice how clean, how empty it was. A computer, some files, a stapler. Some pens. Biros to be exact. He hated biros.

 ‘Is Merlin coming?’ Morgana asked loud enough for him to notice, now a part of the group. She was staring at him, a bloody smile spread on her face. A predator going in for the kill. The prey having no escape. That’s the smile she bore. It was terrifying.

 ‘I don’t see why not,’ Leon mused. ‘The more the merrier.’

 He walked back over to them. ‘What’s this about?’

 ‘Leon’s celebration for promotion to Detective Sergeant,’ Arthur said, pride shining in his face.

 ‘Oh, it would be wonderful for Merlin to come,’ Gwen remarked with excitement. ‘So, Merlin?’

 ‘Sure,’ he replied, battling with the wariness he felt near Morgana. That and the conflicted feelings of both comfort and sadness coiling around him from the sight of Gwen and Arthur. ‘I’d love to.’

 ‘Now that that’s settled with: Leon?’ Arthur indicated toward the interview room. ‘The rest of you know what to do. Morgana, you should probably get back to your own work. Terrorists need stopping as well.’

 ‘Spoil sport,’ she said and walked away, her movements so elegant and smooth they seemed ethereal.

 ‘Merlin, can you go check on forensics?’ Arthur asked him without a moment to spare before heading off to interrogate Charlotte’s friend. Everyone dispersed, to phones or to databases, whatever it may be. Dejectedly Merlin made his way down to the lab, briskly passing Morgana.

 

 

 The man was hunched over a microscope, a screen showing an amazingly detailed image of the subject of his study. Before entering the lab area itself, Merlin grabbed a white coat from a hanger and pulled it on, the glass door automatically shifting out of his way.

 ‘Have you come about the leather?’ the man asked, lifting a grey eyebrow and looking to Merlin.

 ‘You’ve already gotten hold of it?’

 ‘I’m rather good at my job,’ he said, returning to the microscope’s eyepiece. ‘Are you the new Constable?’

 ‘Detective Constable Emrys. You’re,’ Merlin paused searching for the name. He was sure Gwen had mentioned it when he’d arrived the day before. ‘Guy . . . Gaius?’

 ‘Gaius,’ he said and pulled away from the lab equipment, pulling off a set of gloves. ‘I’ve identified the leather jacket. Pritch London, Shotgun Jacket, from the store Wolf and Badger.’

 ‘How do you know that?’

 ‘You’d really like me to explain?’

 ‘Um, yeah. I think it might be interesting,’ Merlin said, but the look of stony disbelief on Gaius’ face made him smile honestly. ‘Not really, no.’

 ‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘I doubt this will help you that much. Hundreds of these jackets would have been sold, despite the exuberant price.’

 ‘Well, it suggests they might have money, or have a friend with money,’ Merlin thought aloud. ‘Or that they’re good at finding good quality things at charity shops; or they have good luck in randomly finding items of clothing lying about. Second thoughts it doesn’t help much at all, but thank you anyway.’

 ‘It’s my job, DC Emrys, you don’t need to thank me.'

 ‘Oh no, I think what you do is fascinating. Forensics, the chemistry, all of it.’

 ‘You certainly have more appreciation for my work than your colleagues,’ Gaius noted glumly, descending into deep thought just as Merlin’s mobile rang out from his trouser pocket. Quickly fishing it out he apologised to the scientist with an awkward smile and answered.

 ‘Merlin, hope you don’t mind I pulled your mobile number off the database,’ Gwaine said. ‘But we’re heading off to the nightclub Ambrosia. Apparently Charlotte was there before she . . . you know, so if you want to join come now.’

 ‘I’ll be right there,’ Merlin replied, hanging up and beginning to shrug off the coat. ‘Thanks for the identification, Gaius.’

 ‘If you need anything else, just come tell me,’ the man offered with a small smile before returning to observe a test tube.

 Charging out of the building Merlin saw his new colleagues climbing into Arthur’s car. For a split second his eyes caught those of Arthur’s over the hood of the car. The warmth breathed into life again in his chest, before it faltered and dissipated when the DS ducked into the car and he was lost from sight. Suppressing the odd culmination of emotions that began to well, Merlin climbed into the back.

 ‘What has Gaius got us?’ Arthur asked, starting the engine and looking to him in the mirror.

 ‘The person who was down there was wearing a woman’s Shotgun Jacket,’ he said while clipping the seat belt into place.

 ‘So, probably a female killer?’

 ‘Mhm.’

 ‘What do you think of Gaius?’ Gwaine inquired, his voice upbeat and a charming smile plastered onto his face which strained to catch sight of Merlin.

 ‘He seems nice,’ he said

 ‘Knew you guys would hit it off. You’ve got that air about you, Merlin.’

 ‘What air?’

 ‘Quirky,’ was all Gwaine offered up. ‘Gaius has it too.’

 ‘Would you two focus on the issue at hand?’

 ‘What’s got your knickers in a twist?’ Gwaine asked.

 ‘Ambrosia,’ Arthur began. ‘You are aware it’s been suspected as a front for drug dealing, right? Prostitution, smuggling, dog fights, just about anything illegal you can think of they’re neck deep in it.’

 ‘Why haven’t you charged them, then?’ Merlin questioned with furrows brows.

 ‘No evidence.’

 ‘See, Merlin,’ Gwaine said. ‘Cenred, the guy that runs the place, is an intelligent bastard and has all the right connections.’

 ‘Someone in the Met?’

 Arthur scoffed and Gwaine said, ‘He has spies running about the whole place, telling him when a drugs raid will happen, or when he’s being paid a visit, that kind of thing.’

 ‘Right.’

 ‘Arthur here hasn’t been able to get him for about four months now,’ Gwaine declared, somewhat mockingly but with an edge of sympathy.

 ‘Cendred’s a piece of work, then?’

 ‘Understatement,’ Arthur muttered, turning on the indicator which ticked away as they entered Soho. After several minutes of contemplative silence the car stopped rumbling and they all came face to face with the infamous Ambrosia.

 ‘I’ll look around the back rooms,’ Gwaine told them with determination in his stride as he left without a response. Arthur answered Merlin’s confused look by instinct, ‘They have dancers. Female, young, and attractive dancers who just so happen to prep in the club’s back rooms.’

 ‘Ah,’ was all Merlin could say and then they too were heading inside. The atmosphere put him on edge, the building itself with bordered up windows, everything painted an impenetrable black and a fluorescent orange ‘AMBROSIA’ sign hanging above the double door entrance. Passing into a foyer area, the smell of sweat and blood cut into him. Familiar almost, he swallowed heavily and followed Arthur, concentrating on the Pendragon’s wide shoulders. The strength hidden by a dark jacket, the layers beneath creating a warrior’s armour in the city. Merlin forced his eyes away. Blood and sweat. Not Arthur. He felt the warmth. He felt the comfort. Yet, intermingled, an incorrigible pain. That distraction would do no good. So, he breathed in the metallic blood. He breathed in the sweat.

 Climbing a set of stairs they came into an office, of sorts. There was a desk, but most of the large expanse was empty. Except for the metal poles stretching from floor to ceiling around the edges.

 ‘And who might you be?’

 ‘DS Pendragon and DC Emrys,’ Arthur introduced, striding to stand in the centre of the room, unflinching. Merlin followed suit, his eyes looking over everything they could. Dark oak floor, a stark contrast to the plain concrete of the main dance floor. The man had his legs kicked up, crossed, and resting on the edge of the table.

 ‘Police? What can I do for you?’ he asked with a false smile, leaping up to reveal his leather attire.

 ‘You’re Cenred?’ Merlin questioned in turn, skeptically looking the man over.

 ‘Yes, I am, and you are gorgeous,’ Cenred remarked, fast approaching. Stopping just shy of himself and Arthur, the leather clad monstrosity leaned in. ‘I know many customers who would pay good money to have your company. Do you dance?’

 ‘No,’ Merlin snapped in disgust, but was cut short by the monster’s outstretched hand which assaulted his jaw line with a stroke of his fingers. Cenred howled in pain while Arthur gripped his arm twisted at an unnatural position behind his back. The movement was so fast Merlin had barely realised when Arthur had shifted and struck all in a manner of moments.

 ‘Do that again, and I’ll do more than throw in you in a cell for a night,’ Arthur warned with gritted teeth. ‘Understand.’

 ‘I think you broke my arm!’

 There was a sickly crunch as Arthur jerked the arm, receiving a strangled, ‘I understand!’ Shoving Cenred away from him, Arthur made sure to stand between him and Merlin.

 ‘We’re here for your CCTV tapes,’ Arthur said coldly.

 The defiance gleamed in Cenred’s black eyes, but he abided without another word. Arthur remained a barrier, whether conscious of it or not. The monster disappeared into a store room in the corner of the room and emerged a minute later carrying a cardboard box.

 ‘Here are the tapes for the last month,’ he snapped.

 ‘Including Sunday night?’ Merlin pressed, refusing to appear dazed by Cenred’s actions.

 ‘Yes,’ he answered and thrusted the box at Arthur who took it with a controlled and terrifying smile.

 ‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ Arthur said.

 Bowing his head slightly, Cenred returned to his desk and picked up a magazine. ‘My pleasure.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about updating a bit more frequently (there's quite a bit of it and once a week will take a while - seriously, I did the maths and everything ^_^) Plus, I think it'd be nice if the fic's timeline coincides a little with real life's - can't get it perfect but the final chapter or two can do it. It'll probably mean two updates on some weeks. Yup, that is all. Carry on and be happy :3


	3. Storm On The Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for all the wonderful comments ^_^ It's a highlight of my lowly writer life :3  
> Every fortnight I'll put another chapter up on a Wednesday as well as Sunday, just so you're aware~

'Are you okay?' Arthur asked softly behind as they descended to the main floor.

'I'm good,' Merlin said, letting his smile show. There was no one to question it as his stomach fluttered at the mere memory of Arthur's reaction.

'You seem to attract trouble,' Arthur murmured to himself.

'You're one to talk,' he said under his breath, his steps faltering for a second at the surrealism of the comment. It felt like he had just tapped an elusive memory, like those from his childhood. Only this was different. Deeper.

They stepped out into freedom, the fresh air and breeze cleansing Merlin of what dark things had clung to his clothes, skin. Taking a long breath he moved out the way for Arthur who broke into the light with the box in tow.

'I hate this place,' he said with a hard look and didn't turn back to face Ambrosia. The remark hung in the air, closing the unpleasant experience off, much to Merlin's relief. Gwaine was waiting by the car and waved to them, taking the tapes from Arthur and tucking them away in the boot before they left. Inside Arthur barely looked at Merlin, but the same couldn't be said for the other way round. Merlin had barely let his gaze leave the Pendragon, and luckily Gwaine was too distracted recalling his adventures with the dancer Eliza - or Lizzy - to even notice.

 

 

'Where is he!?' a woman cried as Merlin opened the door. Followed by Arthur and Gwaine they walked into a heated scene between a middle-aged woman and the rest of their team. 'Where is the Detective dealing with Old Religion?'

The three of them made their way slowly forward, navigating the maze of desks and observing silently as Kilgharrah moved past Leon to stand before the woman.

'Why do you think we're working on a case which has been inactive for the better part of a decade?' he inquired, calmly, resolutely, and with an unshakable authority.

'The news,' she blubbered, the emotions racking her body as anger tore at her sadness. Just as Gwaine settled the box down on his desk, the woman turned to them. Her face twisted and she grabbed for Arthur, clawed hands tugging harshly at his jacket; raising a hand to slap him across the face he held her steady and away. She fought against him, eyes dark but soon blurring with tears and sorrow.

'My son, you killed my son! You did nothing and let them carry on and my baby,' she drew in a painful breath, her arms tired and struggle lessening, yet strength in her accusations, 'my baby boy is dead because of it! You did nothing, and now they're doing it again.'

Gwen gently took the woman from Arthur, rubbing her back as she cried, and helped her away from them, out of the door to let herself feel what needed to be felt. Merlin's eyes were wide and when he glanced to Arthur he saw a tousled, confused, and angry man. At that moment his stare was met with burning blue eyes. It wasn't anger at the assault. It was anger that her boy had died. That no one had stopped it.

'DC Emrys, can I see your for a minute?' K asked, the muffled conversations of everyone around him coming back into focus.

'Yes, sir,' he said quietly, unsure of whether leaving Arthur was a good idea. Then he remembered that he'd only met the man yesterday, and left without another look to the subject in question. Something twisted inside him at the action; his gut instinct. Fear trickled into his mind.

The door of K's office closed and he shot his first query, 'How are you and Arthur getting along?'

Frowning, Merlin considered the question carefully. 'He hates me, I think. I'd hate me if I were him. Only my second day and twice he's had to save me. It-It doesn't feel right. I don't really know how to . . . put it.'

'Feel you need to save him in turn?' K suggested, folding his aged hands in front of him on the desk. Merlin lingered near the exist, either to stay closer to an escape from a confusing conversation or to stay closer to Arthur. 'Even the odds?'

'I suppose,' he said quietly. The prospect made his confusion smooth out slightly, which he took as a good sign.

'You and Arthur were partnered for a reason, I hope you realise.'

As much as he tried, Merlin couldn't decipher K's expression. 'What reason?'

'Two sides of the same coin.'

'Sorry?'

'An old saying,' K said loudly, as if returning from reverie. 'Just know that Arthur needs you. He's young, ambitious-'

'Arrogant, self-centred-'

'And you're exceptionally intelligent with natural talent in the way of Justice. Together I feel London is a lot safer.'

Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again. He'd never spoken to his superiors like this before. Not about such trivial things. Although, they didn't feel trivial. In fact, Arthur seemed the complete opposite, and he had no idea why. 'Is that what you wanted to talk about?'

'Partly. Keep him safe. He's never dealt with such a cruel organisation.'

'And I have?' Merlin scoffed.

'I'm not worried about you, Detective Constable,' K assured him. 'Destiny has plans for us all.'

'I should get back to the case,' he said, still wearing a deeply etched frown and pulled the door open, slipping out and back into reality. Reality where everyone was gathered around Elyan's computer screen. Percy shifted to make space for him, and silently thanking him with a smile Merlin watched the CCTV tape from Ambrosia. The black and white world played out on the screen, and in it he saw the victim dancing. Her body writhed with the others in that blood and sweat stinking place. Her memory captured in such a dark place. Charlotte's figure moved seamlessly through the crowd, soon joined by a woman with a halo, her hair a shocking contrast to all those with darkness shrouding their heads. They were one for a minute or two before the haloed led Charlotte to the bar.

Merlin knew Arthur had seen what he had when he stiffened.

'The bar tender knows the blonde woman,' Arthur thought aloud, resonating with Merlin's own thoughts.

'A blonde hair found at the scene too,' Gwaine murmured.

'How can you tell?' Gwen asked quietly, having just returned from soothing the woman.

'Body language,' was all Merlin had as an answer. Looking up her face still bore confusion so he added, 'He's open, relaxed, but you can just make out his expression. He's smiling, and she responds in much the same way.'

'Bar tenders are supposed to be friendly and open,' Leon commented skeptically.

'True, but it's something that's not always the case, especially when paired with this woman's gestures,' Arthur said. 'Elyan, can you try to clear up this image a bit more and get a clear picture of the woman? Merlin and I can go have a chat with the bartender tomorrow night.'

'Night?' Merlin repeated, and when Arthur looked up to face him from his perch on the edge of the desk K's words drifted through his mind: 'Keep him safe. He's never dealt with such a cruel organisation.' Keep him safe. His stomach twisted, and the something inside him mimicked the sensation when it tightened around his nerves.

'I doubt he'll be there before Ambrosia opens, don't you?'

'Can't we visit him at home?'

'That requires more paperwork and I'd rather talk to him in his element. Might help him remember, open up.'

'Right,' Merlin muttered, folding his arms. Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned and the first thing he saw was another set of blue eyes. They were muted and darkened as the sky is before a storm and shone with the same tension. Caught and frozen before black clouds and lightening could tear through them.

'I'm looking for DS Arthur Pendragon,' the man said gently, kindly.

'That's me,' Arthur responded, standing up and indicating to Elyan to stop the tape.

'I heard you reopened the Old Religion case,' the man said, his eyes shifting to Arthur and leaving Merlin feeling a strange sense of emptiness. The sky in his eyes had made him feel safer and yet terrified.

'You are?'

'Mordred,' the man replied, and anticipating their reactions to his name carried on to explain that: 'It's Old Welsh. I worked on the sixth murder in their last cycle, only a PC at the time, but I thought you might need some help. I've already spoken with my superiors and they've agreed to the transfer. I just need you to sign off on it.'

'Help is always welcome,' Arthur said with a smile and walked towards him, hand extended. Mordred took it firmly and they shook. When their hands separated Merlin found Mordred holding it out to him, expectant. Tentatively he took it, feeling the man's cool fingers wrap around his own hand at it had done Arthur's. Mordred's eyes were resting on him again.

'I know you from somewhere,' Mordred remarked, still grasping his hand. Merlin tried to concentrate on the light in the room, how it was dimming as night drew in closer, instead of the way something icy was dancing along in his veins. Only it made him aware of the shadows which were cast over Mordred's soft face. How their darkness made the storm in his eyes seem closer.

'Oh, you two know each other?' Gwaine erupted behind him, excited at this new revelation.

'Actually I can't say the same,' Merlin finally managed to say, pressing his lips together in a forced smile of courtesy.

Mordred cocked his head to the side. 'Sure?'

'Yes,' Merlin said tightly, the ice now forming steam and smothering him from the inside. It moved slowly. A gas cloud, emanating from the hand holding Mordred's. The connection was severed when their hands parted and the cloud was sucked out of his body in an instant, Merlin taking a deep breath of relief. 'If none of the past investigations were a success, what exactly can you help with?'

'Who knows,' Mordred said with a dark lyricism in his voice. 'But given the poor success rate more hands on deck can't be a bad thing, can it?'

Gwaine clapped his hands together and pointed a finger to Mordred. 'Exactly the attitude we need. Most of these lot are depressing bastards, no offence. Anyway, in the last few seconds of the tape Charlotte left with the blonde woman, so-'

'It looks like we need to pay another visit to Ambrosia,' Arthur finished, giving one last welcoming smile to Mordred before switching back into an air of authority and power. 'Percy, did you check the statements of the people in Regis House the night of the murder?'

'Yeah, but only three actually saw something possibly helpful,' Percy said.

'Get them in, then,' Arthur instructed.

He sat up straight from his lounging position in a desk chair he'd pulled over to watch the tapes. 'Now? Isn't it a bit late?'

'Does it look like I care?' Arthur asked, the hope in his eyes that Percy would catch on remaining strong, as any good leader's does.

'I'll get squad cars to pick them up,' he concluded.

'You do that,' Arthur said before bringing his attention to Mordred, who was intently watching Merlin with a curious look. 'Mordred, let's have a chat.'

The man reluctantly slid his sight from Merlin to Arthur, following him into his office, but not without one last confounded glance back. Merlin bit his lower lip in thought, his eyes boring into the closing door behind which were two people that triggered an instinct, or hormone, or some biological reaction beyond any scientific explanations he'd ever encountered. Puffing out his cheeks and blowing out slowly he made his way to his bare desk, which still lacked any personal items, and sat down.

'Gwain,' Merlin called, and the man popped his head out from behind the computer screen with a friendly look.

'Yup, Merlin?'

'Can I have that tape? When we see the blonde woman?'

'Sure,' he answered, bringing it to Merlin a few moments later. 'Planning to do some mystical expert analysis?'

Merlin took the disk and inserted it into his own computer. 'Obviously.'

'Ah, well have fun. I'm off now, so,' he trailed off, slowly retreating and Merlin focused on opening the tape and internet browser. 'Oh, and Merlin?'

He could see Gwain's figure in his peripheral vision but concentrated on getting the tape to the right time. 'Yeah?'

'Is it just me or was there a moment between you and the Mordred guy?'

His fast forwarding leaped two hours too far and he cursed softly, reversing again. 'A moment?'

'You guys weren't even shaking hands, just holding them. Everyone was too in awe of this new tall, dark, handsome stranger to even notice. It doesn't seem a bit odd to you?'

'Trust me when I say there was no "moment", and we weren't holding hands. It was more of a . . . size each other up kind of thing?'

'Ah, a test of strength. Impressively old fashioned, and subtle,' he said admiringly.

'Glad you think so,' Merlin murmured with a breathy chuckle.

'Well, g'night,' Gwain said and left, noticeably empty handed unlike most officers who inevitably took their work home with them. Merlin's heartbeat had sped up, and only now could he feel it beating heavily away. It slowly began to calm down as he searched for images of the Shotgun Jacket. Once he had several photos up he switched back to the video and let it play, trying to distinguish the jacket in the crowd, and more importantly on the woman.

 

 

'What're you still doing here?' Gwen asked him, his eyes tiredly scanning the CCTV footage again and again and again.

'Oh, nothing,' he drawled. 'Just seeing what clothes the woman's wearing. Seeing if they match the fabric I found.'

'Does it?'

'Nope,' he said, looking up at her with a defeated smile. The interview room's door banged open and a ruffled Arthur emerged with Leon following close behind, running a hand through his golden curls.

'That was brutal.'

'A drunk, a liar and an adulterer,' Arthur listed with irritation.

'I take it the interviews didn't go well, then?' Merlin inquired mockingly.

Arthur paused beside Gwen and stared him down. 'No, Merlin. They didn't.'

'Well, we get the tapes of Regis House on Thursday, and they might shed some light on the situation,' Leon noted optimistically, but even he seemed worn from the several hours spent talking to useless witnesses.

'Why so late?' he couldn't help but ask, his own mind already beginning to slow down, thoughts moving through a boggy landscape.

'Civil servants, Merlin. Need I say more?'

'That's a bit mean,' Gwen noted and playfully whacked Arthur on the arm, and began to straighten his tie before pulling back at the obvious action. 'I'm tired, so see you guys tomorrow?'

'Of course,' Arthur responded too quickly with a fond smile. Twist. It twisted and squeezed at his heart, and Merlin looked away from the moment they were sharing. Why should he care? They've no doubt known each other for years. He's been there for days. Nothing can compare to that.

'I'll be off too,' he said and left, grabbing his bag from the side of the desk; it didn't even factor in that he'd left his computer on, or that Gwen had asked him if he was taking the tube and if so they could go together. Somewhere in his mind these things were understood and acknowledged, but they made it no further.

Emotions of an unknown source were knocking away with maddening noise at his thoughts and his body. He had no idea how it was he'd managed to make it back to his flat, but one second he was leaving that sickly sweet scene, the next bombarded with an icy cold, then the torrent of warm air underground, people, noise, and finally after a short walk and lift later Merlin was back in the comfort and safety of his flat.

Lights. Take off shoes. Hook coat on a peg. Throw bag onto the sofa. Routine and systematic, leaving his brain free to mull over the case. Over Arthur. Mordred. Merlin took off every layer, pulling on a t-shirt and a soft pair of pyjama trousers before sitting down in the middle of his sitting room. It wasn't a particularly large flat, one bedroom, a small bathroom, kitchen and sitting room melded together and nothing he could really call a dining room. There was a balcony, which was perfect in warm weather, so he barely got the chance to use it.

Letting out a long breath he drew his thoughts back to the case. Fixating on mundane things was avoidance and it did him no good. Stretching over to the sofa he tugged the bag off, slipping his fingers in and finding the cold folders. Spread around him in a semi-circle, he opened each one, studying them in turn. Arranging pages here and there, ones which might have connections, ones which meant nothing, ones that he'd need to think a bit harder about.

Time fell through his fingers as the words fell through his imagination, carving and cutting at his mind - the only balm to soothe the pain being logic and 'justice' as K had put it. These victims had nothing in relation to the Ambrosia club. None. He hadn't had the sense to request a file on Cenred, but night was wrapping around him. It cruelly pulled him down onto his side, head resting on papers, and lulled him into sleep.


	4. Inescapable

Black, beating wings. They were massive, engulfing the bloody sky behind them as they flapped as they stretched out from the man's back. Oceans crashed into each other in his eyes, drowning everyone caught unaware. Merlin stared up at Mordred who was thirty or more feet above the ground, silent. Watching.

His heart threw itself against his ribs in protest of the situation. The ground was cracking, crumbling away as thin, wiry hands clawed out from beneath it. Soon arms and then heads. He recognised the faces, what was left of them. The victims all struggling and screaming and writhing as they sought freedom from the rotting, suffocating prison of death. Merlin wanted to help them, to do something, but he couldn't move. His feet, like lead, wouldn't budge an inch and he felt his stomach twist in the most painful way when he saw her.

As high as Mordred but wingless, Morgana smirked down at him. Shadows shifted and snaked around her body, joined by tendrils of fire which swam toward him at her command. He could feel his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers, the adrenaline coursing through every limb. The fires coiled around him in thick ropes, burning his bare skin and then through the suit. Voiceless he couldn't even cry out, falling to his knees as he felt the tears stream down his face as the heat ate away at him.

Sunshine blasted through Mordred's wings and the dark man hit the ground in the next second, a crumpled mess of feathers. When it touched the fires around Merlin, they hissed and spluttered into steam. The light cooled his skin and he watched as it consumed Morgana, her shadows, her fire, all of it gone and wiped from the sky.

'Merlin?'

He knew that voice, didn't he? A hand touched his shoulder, helping him up to his feet.

'Arthur?' he rasped, voice raw from something. Perhaps that's why he couldn't make a sound. Arthur's lips slowly spread up into a smile, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

'You're such an idiot,' he said mockingly but with impossible adoration in his voice, blue eyes seeking out Merlin's. When he finally brought himself to face Arthur, he forgot about the screaming bodies, he forgot about the pain and fear. Everything was warm. Bright. Arthur. Everything was . . . Arthur.

'Yeah, well you're a dollop-head,' he remarked, receiving a laugh from the King. King? He looked like he could be a King. He'd saved him. 'What was that?'

'Oh, nothing, really. Mordred, Morgana, they're nothing you should worry about. Just think about you, and think about me,' Arthur said, still holding firmly onto Merlin, keeping him warm and safe. 'We've both waited a thousand years, remember?'

'Remember,' Merlin murmured, something about what Arthur said not sitting quite right. 'Remember wha-'

The sickly sound sent a shock through Merlin. It sounded wet, and looking down he saw the point of a sword protruding from Arthur's chest. Painted in his blood. His chest felt tight, all breath having been hit out of him. Arthur fell and Merlin caught him, staring down into those warm eyes and seeing how the sunshine ran out, replaced by a stillness. An agonisingly familiar stillness and emptiness.

The memory of this pain, the fresh pain he felt, it tore out of him in a shout, ripping out his joy with it. As if on cue chains of shadow erupted from the ground, falling down onto the victims and forcing them back under, claws of earth trying to drag Arthur down with them. Merlin fought against them, hugging Arthur's body to his own, refusing to let him go, but they were too strong and dirt and grime soon rolled over Arthur while Merlin was forced to watch. He sank out of site and all Merlin could hear beyond his own cries was laughter. All around him, in his own mind, stealing away his voice once again, the laughter became his world. Vicious. Inescapable. Untouchable.

Everything fell away, falling down into nothing and leaving nothing behind.

 

Merlin jerked awake, his cheeks wet and chest aching. He slowly got up from the floor in a slight state of confusion, shock, before cries racked his body. Routine. Seeking his routine he changed out of his clothes again, pulling on an entirely new set that weren't damp with sweat and crawled into his bed. The cool sheets were a comfort, and so were the lights. The amber hue which clung to the air was enough to settle his nerves, calm his breath. As the minutes passed the crying stopped and his thinking became clearer, less muddled, less foggy. He passed into a cold, shadowless, sunless sleep, but his subconscious was still haunted by the nightmare. Echoes of it danced through his remaining dreams, a crow, a candle and a sword.

 

 

'Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?'

Merlin lifted his heavy head and squinted up at Mordred. The man was smiling down at him, holding out a coffee cup.

'Something like that,' Merlin said sleepily, taking the coffee after a moment's deliberation. The sweet smell made his mouth water and he took a sip, the liquid burning, still as delicious as the scent had suggested. 'Thanks.'

'Anytime,' Mordred said softly, just loud enough for Merlin to hear, but no one else. The sound of beating wings erupted before the normal background noise of Scotland Yard returned. 'The videos have arrived early.'

'So, civil servants aren't all that bad,' Merlin said quietly, remembering Arthur the night before just as the man himself walked purposefully towards them. Lost for a moment in Arthur's stoic expression the memory of the nightmare, of the lifeless eyes, was kept at bay. When it surfaced he took a gulp of the scalding coffee.

'Merlin, can you watch the tapes with Elyan?' he asked, not waiting for a response before he turned to Mordred and told him, 'We need to go talk to the bartender, apparently he's gonna be at Ambrosia for the day.'

'Wait, I thought I was supposed to go with you to talk to him,' Merlin said as he stood up, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Arthur had been avoiding direct eye contact but when he did finally look at Merlin head on they seemed to hold back a combination of irritation, anger, and within it all a strange softness.

'Personally, I think Merlin would be a great asset,' Mordred remarked, to Merlin's dismay and joy.

'I just think it would be better-'

'He's exceptional at studying body language,' Mordred continued. 'And liars. He's rather good at spotting liars.'

'What is this? You two only met yesterday, how can you-' Arthur paused, letting his frustration trickle away. 'Fine, if you insist.'

Sighing loudly the DS headed for the lift, leaving him alone with Mordred who gave him the strangest stare.

'You seemed panicked,' Mordred noted softly.

Merlin was still reeling from the transaction that had taken place. 'What?'

'That he was going to leave you here. You two are partners so . . .'

'Ah, you're explaining why you came to such an over the top defence,' he realised, laughing incredulously.

'It worked, didn't it?'

'Right. No it did, thanks, I guess. I can fight for myself though, although I really shouldn't have to fight to just to interview a bartender, I mean I'm his partner after all. The fact that you had to intervene at all-'

'Hey,' Mordred cut in, lips pulling up into an amused smile. 'I might have just done it so I can spend more time with you, you know.'

'What?' Merlin said again, feeling his cheeks heat up at the stare he was being subjected to.

'You should go ahead, I've got to ask Leon something,' Mordred told him, still wearing that heinously adorable grin as he left. Merlin shook his head and went after Arthur, stumbling into the lift just as the doors close.

'What was that?' Merlin inquired harshly, wondering why he sounded so offended. Partners work together, sure. He was lower in rank to Arthur though.

'Merlin, I thought you of all people wouldn't want to go back to the club,' he replied, challenging Merlin to deny it.

'Why?'

'Cenred,' Arthur said coldly, eyes losing focus as his thoughts tumbled through the past. Then he returned and looked at Merlin, the lift now feeling a lot smaller. 'I didn't think you'd want to deal with that slimy bastard again.'

'You're such a clotpole,' Merlin said, almost wincing at his poor choice of insult. Level with Arthur he ensured the blonde man would take his next words seriously. 'I'm a grown man. You don't have to protect me.'

At that Arthur laughed, a light bursting into life in his eyes, glowing in his skin. 'If it weren't for me you'd have died on your first day here.'

'That's a bit extreme,' Merlin said, but his mocking defence fell and a gentle smile took hold of his lips. 'How about you get yourself in trouble, then I can save you, and we'll be even?'

'Deal,' Arthur said without hesitation. Under his breath Merlin could have sworn Arthur had called him an idiot.

 

 

The three of them marched into Ambrosia, Arthur taking point. The club was dull, quiet, hollow. Merlin was prepared for the metallic stench of blood and sweat this time. Somehow the shadows that dominated most of the place were again familiar. Out the corner of his eye he could see Mordred looking the place over with his observant and ridiculously blue eyes.

'Over there,' Arthur alerted them to the thin, wiry man crouched beside a stack of beer boxes. As they approached he stood up and turned, his expression one of curiosity before it turned to horror. 'I'm DS Pendragon, this is DC Emrys, and DC-'

The man clumsily charged for the nearest door, tripping over a box in the process but scrambling to his feet in no time.

'Damn it,' Arthur hissed, stripping off his jacket before chasing after him. 'Mordred, go round the back!'

Merlin found himself standing like a fool while the two others had rushed off in opposite directions. Pondering the situation was taking too long so he followed instinct and dashed after Arthur.

Slamming against the door it swung out of his way and Merlin ran in the most logical direction, up a small stair case and then out of the open window onto the low roof of the club. Turning around in a frenzy his eyes scoured everything for Arthur, for someone, and above he could see them sprinting up a fire escape with peeling black paint, heading to the highest roof. Hauling himself up onto the metal stair case, Merlin felt the freezing breeze as rain began to fall. Muscles burning as he spurred himself up the stairs at full speed he got onto the gravel topped roof just as Arthur landed on the neighbouring building's.

Wind whipped against him as he ran after them, eyes trained on Arthur. Without thinking he vaulted off the edge of the roof, heat surging through every limb, and landed without fault on the the next roof. Grinning with the adrenaline he started off again, leaping, landing, rolling, running. Getting up from what must have been the fourth landing Merlin felt his heart leap into his throat. No Arthur. He couldn't see him. Every roof, staircase, it was all barren.

'Arthur!' he shouted, panting heavily while he searched. Minutes had passed when a strangled cry filled the air, carried away slightly by the relentless wind. His stomach twisted unnaturally in fear and he sprinted to the roof's edge. Again the heat rushed into every part of his body and then he saw him. Arthur hanging on the rail of another fire escape a hundred or more feet away, battling to not lose his grip.

A route found its way into his mind and Merlin dropped down off the roof onto a balcony. Climbing onto the edge he jumped to the next building, recklessly, but successfully. His body seemed unfazed, but somewhere he knew that every muscle was aching and shuddering with the exertion. It didn't matter though. He didn't slow down as he ran for Arthur. After several well calculated jumps and turns he landed hard on the fire escape. Just in time to grab Arthur's arm as he slipped from the railing.

'Don't let go!' Merlin ordered him, groaning as he pulled Arthur up with all the strength he could muster, helped by the strange warmth which ran like a current in his veins. Arthur hooked his leg over the railing and then collapsed over the safe side, keeping hold of Merlin's arm deliriously.

Blood was smeared over his forehead, dampening his blonde hair.

'Merlin!' a deep voice bellowed and he looked down to see Mordred sprinting over to what must have been the wiry man. He was the one who had cried out, now lying eerily still on a conveniently positioned dumpster. Mordred looked up, seeing Merlin with a woozy Arthur in his arms, as he held a phone to his ear. Fear faded in Mordred's eyes, the storms calming. He didn't know how but Merlin could see them with an impossible clarity. The ambulance siren erupted in the distance and wailed mercilessly, accompanied by a police car's. They soon arrived at the mouth of the small street, alongside curious spectators.

'Arthur, can you hear me?' Merlin asked, turning around and letting the DS sit on the floor of the staircase.

'Yeah, I can hear you,' he breathed, blinking a bit too often and looking at the world around him dazed.

'The ambulance is just down there. If you can walk I can get you-'

'No,' Arthur said firmly.

'What?'

'I am not going to hospital, just take me home,' he said, looking up at Merlin, clearly having trouble focusing on just the one thing.

'Arthur, you need to go to hospital,' Merlin implored, trying to keep his face from showing his horror at the deep gash running along the DS's hairline. Blood was flowing steadily and the varying hues of red made his heart stammer unevenly.

'I have concussion. I also have a first aid kit in my bathroom. So, DC Emrys, keep me awake and get me there to patch me up, okay? You do know first aid, right?'

'Vaguely, but the wound's really bad,' Merlin murmured, seeing that he'd made his stupid mind up.

'Good enough. Come on, help me up,' he instructed.

'Just, put this against it to stop the bleeding a bit?' he said, slipping the scarf from his neck and handing it to Arthur.

'Merlin.'

'Please.'

Something in his voice made Arthur's rushing thoughts slow and he took the scarf, bundling it up and pressing it against his head. 'Okay. Now, can we go?'

Arthur put his arm around Merlin's shoulders while Merlin supported him with one round his waist.

'Fine, but if you die I can't be held accountable,' he tried to joke but the tightness in his voice fed the words with his increasing concern.

'Merlin, stop worrying.'

'Not until I know you're not going to die,' Merlin said as they descended, the rain falling more freely now, cold and soaking through his own jacket and through Arthur's waistcoat and shirt.

Eventually they managed to make it to Arthur's car, Merlin awkwardly slipping his hand into Arthur's pocket to grab the keys before helping him into the passenger side. Dashing to the driver's side he got in and started the car, rain hammering against the windshield.

'Are you any good at giving directions?'

'Yes, but I have Sat Nav so why bother,' Arthur said and punched in the address on the touch screen before falling back against the seat, eyes closed. The woman's voice cut through the comfortable silence every now and then as Merlin drove, directing him. 'Do you even have a licence?'

'Not exactly. I can drive, just not legally,' Merlin noted with a half-hearted smile, pushing his foot down on the pedal and the car's engine roaring louder. The concern for Arthur's delirious state was becoming the predominant emotion and he wanted to get him to his flat as fast as possible. Noticing Arthur's drooping eyelids he talked non stop about his past. He didn't know why, but it was something he knew a lot about and there were years upon years of material to cover.

Every now and then he'd hear a breathy chuckle, or a huff of disbelief. He touched on anything trivial or happy, and avoided everything else. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Arthur's lips twitch, almost smiling, as he spoke. The something inside him grew warmer, comforting his nerves, in response.


	5. Drama Queen

‘I can’t find it!’ Merlin called to Arthur while he investigated the DS’s bathroom. It was taking effort to subdue his awe. In Kensington, everything had a touch of splendour, elegance and even prestige. The flat seemed to breathe a modest extravagance. The tiles were white and the space large, the shower with levers and buttons Merlin couldn’t help but marvel at. It put his own flat to shame ten fold. Not that he cared.

 ‘Have you checked under the sink?’

 ‘Yes,’ Merlin replied, but returned to it just in case. Pulling the white doors open by their metal handles he rifled around, shifting towels and plaster packs around. The bottom shelf was darker and Merlin had to lay flat on his stomach to investigate properly and as he pushed towels and the plastic bottles this way and that his hand touched a rougher fabric. Pulling it out, the large cross shone at him with success. Then irritation.

 ‘Did you find it?’

 ‘Maybe,’ Merlin shouted as he got back to his feet. Carefully closing the cupboard doors he walked back down the hallway into the living room where Arthur was sprawled across the black leather sofa.

 ‘So, you did?’ Arthur mocked loudly, eyes closed and unaware of Merlin’s movement. A smile danced along Merlin’s lips as he stepped as quietly as he could to the side of the sofa, leaning over the back of it so his face was inches from Arthur’s. He was going to surprise him, scare him even, but being so close he forgot the intentions. He just saw the man’s dewy skin, peaceful expression and listened to his breathing. Something stabbed in his chest and his stomach twisted horribly, the sensation lasting two seconds and no more. Breath catching for a second Merlin jolted upright in shock. Genuine pain. Why?

 ‘Merlin?’

 ‘I’m here,’ Merlin murmured, still collecting himself, trying to forget another strangely emotional moment. Arthur opened his eyes and raised a brow at him.

 ‘Are you just going to stand there?’

 ‘No.’

 ‘Well?’

 ‘Right. You could probably dress the wound yoursel-‘

 ‘Merlin. Stop talking for a second and pay attention to what you just said. Injured victim. Wound on head god knows where. Concussion. Factor all these things together,’ Arthur said, words thick with superiority.

 ‘Huh,’ Merlin said, walking languidly over to the front of the sofa, avoiding the black glass coffee table which sat between it and the large TV screen.

 ‘What?’

 ‘I just didn’t think you’d want me to take care of you so badly,’ Merlin commented, turning over the first aid kit in his hands.

 ‘Why wouldn’t my partner in crime not help me? It’s your duty,’ Arthur remarked with mock seriousness, his gaze fixed unerringly on Merlin throughout the entire conversation.

 ‘Is that supposed to be ironic?’ Merlin questioned, nudging Arthur’s leg with his own.

 ‘Maybe,’ Arthur imitated with a charismatic grin, wincing slightly as he pushed himself up and scooted over to one side of the sofa. Sinking down Merlin pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged, facing Arthur, as he unzipped the bag. 

 ‘How can you afford such a . . . high class place?’ Merlin asked, filling the silence as he concentrated on getting out antiseptic wipes and a bottle of clear plaster gel.

 ‘Awards. I won a few in Uni and from Scotland Yard.’

 ‘Awards that pay?’

 ‘Yup. Mostly sports, but with the Met I earned one for chivalry, or something like that. They didn’t give me money but the person I saved did. Exceptionally generous family,’ Arthur recalled with fondness, eyes unfocused as he delved into memories. Merlin had found what he’d been looking for and put the kit to one side.

 ‘Lean forward?’ he asked softly, shifting onto his knees to better handle the wound. Arthur did without complaint and Merlin felt a twinge at the sight. It wasn’t fatal and the bone wasn’t damaged, but it was bloody and looked painful. Tentatively he tore an antiseptic wipe packet and pulled out the damp fabric. Then he pressed it gently against the wound, hearing Arthur hiss. ‘Sorry.’

 ‘I’m not a baby, Merlin. Get on with it.’

 So he did. The process was probably slower than it needed to be, due to Merlin’s hesitation and oversensitivity to every movement, every sound, Arthur made. When it came to navigating the gel onto the wound his hand was shaking too much to achieve anything, but the warmth coursed through his fingers and a perfect line of the transparent substance began to harden, sealing the injury closed. Breathing a sigh of relief, Merlin lowered himself down, legs folded under him, and Arthur just two inches away. 

 At eye level he was staring at Arthur. He could feel the man’s breath brush his own face.

 ‘Better?’ Merlin said quietly, barely blinking as he took in the brilliant blue of the DS’s eyes.

 Arthur didn’t respond but when he did, it was just as soft, just as intimate. ‘Much.’

 Confusion wrapped around Merlin and he could see it in Arthur as well. He felt like he’d known the man for so long; if he were to touch the blonde’s cheek it would be natural, it would be right. 

 ‘Coffee or tea?’ Merlin blurted, a sharp blow of air hitting his face when Arthur scoffed.

 ‘You don’t have to nurse me that much,’ he said.

 ‘Well, you probably shouldn’t go to sleep, so you’ll be having coffee. If you made it the purpose would be defeated. Got to keep blood pressure down, now don’t we?’ Merlin rambled and clambered back to his feet, circling around until he saw the kitchen.

 ‘Really, Merlin. You’ve sealed the cut so blood pressure doesn’t matter. I can make it,’ Arthur insisted as he started to get up. Merlin’s hand on his shoulder held him down.

 ‘You’ve helped me and now it’s my turn,’ he said, heading to the similarly white and modern kitchen. ‘You know, I didn’t expect you to take me seriously.’

 ‘With what?’ Arthur called, Merlin out of view as he opened cupboards and tins, searching for coffee.

 ‘Getting yourself into trouble,’ he replied. Slightly embarrassed Merlin noticed the coffee machine sat in the corner. He’d been floundering around for at least two minutes, blind to the most obvious.

 ‘Oh,’ was all Arthur said before continuing on to say, ‘Sorry the place is such a mess by the way. I need to get myself a servant or something.’

 The machine began to hum and a hot stream of coffee filled the mug Merlin held under it. He’d hardly noticed the clutter, but it was definitely there. Dishes sitting unwashed in the kitchen, and on the glass table there had been a chaotic pile of magazines, books, and even some PS3 games.

 ‘Can you afford one?’ Merlin asked, now pulling open the fridge.

 ‘Not really,’ he heard Arthur say. The cool breeze gave him goose bumps but Merlin stood there, staring into the fridge. Two of the shelves housed beers and ciders alone. Only the bottom two and the door held anything more substantial, even then only questionably. Milk, juice, eggs, some dubiously old lettuce. Smiling to himself he finished the coffee and returned to Arthur’s side. Seeing his approach one corner of Arthur’s lips crooked up and he asked, ‘I don’t suppose you’re looking for an extra job?’

 Merlin’s footing faltered and his hand became weak, mind blanking as something hit into it hard.

 ‘Sh-’ Arthur shouted, and reality swarmed back into Merlin’s thoughts. He could only see the effects of . . . whatever had happened. The coffee mug was on the beige carpet, its contents spreading dark and steaming into the fibres. The rest was soaking into Arthur’s white button-up shirt and trousers, a small puddle sitting on the black leather seat. The blonde quickly got his feet, wiping uselessly at the now damp and dark shirt. Irritation carved a frown into his face and Merlin could barely breathe. Then he heard laughter. Not cruel. Not mocking. It was heartfelt amusement.

 ‘You’re unbelievable, Merlin,’ Arthur said between chuckles, holding hands out in defeat before looking up from the stain to Merlin. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

 Arthur’s arm was wrapped around his neck, his free hand rubbing the coffee that clung to it into Merlin’s hair. The fear, the odd sensations all left him and Merlin was caught in the present as he was caught by Arthur. Fighting against him with no real effort Merlin was soon laughing with the DS and in a moment of wickedness he swept his foot under Arthur and they both fell onto the carpet, sticky with the coffee and chests heaving as they sniggered.

 ‘Unbelievable,’ he heard Arthur rasp between the chuckles. Their bodies were touching at the side, his left with Arthur’s right, arms and hands tangled. Merlin turned his head to the side, watching Arthur’s grinning profile.

 ‘What is?’

 ‘You, like I said earlier,’ he explained, the laughter dying but the smile remaining. Arthur’s head fell to the side now as well to look Merlin in the eyes. ‘Brave to a fault I suppose. Running into that underground station, handling Cenred and then me. Jumping over those buildings, I mean. You’re not exactly the fittest looking yet you still did it. Still saved me. Although a huge ego could explain it all. Yeah, you’re not brave just egocentric.’

 ‘Please,’ Merlin scoffed, looking back up to the ceiling in hope that Arthur wouldn’t noticed the blush he could feel burning on his face. ‘You think I’m brave, and you’d be right to.’

 ‘I’m concussed, remember?’

 ‘Some say it can give you a kind of clarity,’ Merlin remarked, not entirely sure if it was true or not, but he didn’t care.

 Arthur chuckled. ‘Clarity?’

 ‘Yeah,’ Merlin said, looking back at Arthur now that his cheeks had cooled down. ‘Makes you understand things in a new light. A brighter light. Notice things you’d been too distracted to notice before your brain got a shock to it.’

 His squint of amused disbelief softened when he murmured, ‘Maybe it has.’

 Arthur shifted a little and Merlin felt his hand fall momentarily onto his own. It was a wonderfully long moment. The heat of his rough skin against his own, both their hands relaxed and unmoving yet the slightly curled in fingers had managed to fit together in such a way it left them locked together.

 Arthur moved again and Merlin’s stomach tightened in the fear he would get up and leave, but instead he’d wiggled himself closer, hand now unashamedly intertwining with Merlin’s. He could barely breathe for the second time that night, but rather than out of panic it was out of joy.

 ‘You’re holding my hand,’ Merlin said quietly, looking up again and focusing his energy on the sensation of their connection.

 ‘In my delirious state I’m grounding my mind with physical contact. It’s biological,’ Arthur reasoned with a put on voice.

 ‘I’m sure it is,’ Marlin said with a devious smile.

 ‘I feel like we’ve met before,’ Arthur said more seriously, and his left hand was on Merlin’s cheek, gently turning his head to the side. ‘How is that possible?’

 Merlin struggled to take in a full breath, the warmth of Arthur’s hand and the blue eyes making his heart beat dangerously fast. ‘You’re insane?’

 ‘I’m being serious, Merlin,’ Arthur murmured. He wasn’t offended, the loving look told Merlin that much.

 ‘I know,’ he whispered.

 Arthur cleared his throat and sat up, his hand sliding out of Merlin’s grip and from his cheek to leave cold emptiness behind. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his messy state.

 ‘I need a shower and a change of clothes,’ Arthur noted.

 ‘I should go then,’ Merlin assumed.

 ‘What? So I can fall asleep and die?’ Arthur questioned him with a raised brow.

 ‘I didn’t know you were such a drama queen,’ he said, trying his best to restore an atmosphere he could breathe in. One not so suffocatingly beautiful. One that didn’t leave his mind reeling in confusion and happiness and pain.

 ‘As your superior, I’m ordering you to remain to ensure my continued survival,’ Arthur instructed jokingly.

 ‘Yes, of course, Sire,’ Merlin replied by instinct. 

 ‘And you need to clean up the mess you made,’ Arthur added.

 He pushed himself up onto his elbows. ‘Shall I help you out of your soiled attire then, Sire?’

 Arthur’s eyes wrinkled in the corners with his smile. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

 Merlin stared up at him from the ground. ‘Is that a no?’

 His eyes widened in mild shock when Arthur unbuttoned his shirt in a few seconds. Bundling it up in his hands Merlin saw a glimpse of skin before Arthur chucked it into his face.

 ‘Thanks,’ Merlin said, voice muffled by the shirt. The heat he felt in his face was hidden at least. 

 ‘Idiot,’ Arthur muttered, and Merlin got the shirt off his face in time to see him walk away. To see his bare back, muscles shifting under the golden skin. Again, the warmth twinged in his chest and he couldn’t help but notice how normal it felt. Normal yet so unbelievably abnormal and wonderful. 

 A metallic ring filled the air and Merlin forced himself to get to his feet, still holding Arthur’s warm shirt. The sound of running water and the click of a lock let him know Arthur wouldn’t be answering. After finding the phone he answered with a, ‘Hello?’ 

 ‘Merlin?’ the rich Irish accent inquired.

 ‘Gwain?’

 ‘You’re at Arthur’s?’

 ‘He’s concussed and Mordred’s with the bartender at the hospital,’ Merlin offered up as an explanation.

 ‘Man, I’ve missed out,’ Gwain muttered.

 ‘Why’d you call?’

 ‘We got the tapes that covered the second entrance into the underground station. The one you found.’

 ‘Oh.’

 ‘I’m not planning on watching them myself, I’m too tired to be of any good. I just wanted to check Arthur knew about them. You guys can watch them tomorrow.’

 ‘Us? Why? Aren’t you-’

 ‘Percy’s got this . . . thing. We won’t be there, but Friday we’ll be back, so don’t worry yourself.’

 ‘I wasn’t-’

 ‘So, uh, you and Arthur, eh?’

 ‘What?’

 ‘I could’ve sworn he and Gwen had a thing going-’

 ‘Wait, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m his servant,’ Merlin rushed and then winced. Servant? Why did he have to say that.

 ‘Woah, Merlin. Keep your kinks to yourself,’ Gwain said with entertained concern. 

 ‘Jesus, no, not that. Gwain,’ he said firmly. ‘What I mean is he’s treating me like his bloody servant and pulling rank and everything. I’m cleaning his floor and shirt and making sure he doesn’t die.’

 ‘I’m not one to judge. I’ll leave the tapes on your desk,’ Gwain said between chuckles. ‘You kids have fun.’

 The long beep indicated Gwain had hung up. Merlin put the phone back into its base, blowing out a long breath and then grinning. Shaking his head at the incredulity of the situation he wandered into the kitchen and threw the shirt at the base of the high-tech washing machine. It had far too many buttons than necessary and he didn’t bother dealing with it. Instead he hunted down a cloth and some spray and returned to the coffee spillage in the living room. 

 Not long after he’d began scrubbing the sound of water stopped and Arthur emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Skin still wet and hair dripping down in front of his face, he came to inspect.

 ‘Not bad,’ he commented. ‘Shower’s all yours.’

 Merlin paused. ‘Wha-’

 ‘You want to sleep with coffee in your hair?’

 ‘Sleep?’ he repeated.

 ‘You’re staying the night,’ Arthur said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

 ‘Arthur-’

 ‘Nope,’ Arthur cut him off. ‘I’ll hear none of it. Leon’s been saying that partners need to spend more time together.’

 ‘He has?’ Merlin asked with furrowed brows.

 ‘So, we will,’ Arthur finished and ruffled Merlin’s hair, holding his hand up as evidence. ‘Shower.’

 ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ Merlin challenged, rising to his feet.

 Even half-naked Arthur exuded an impenetrable power. ‘Merlin.’

 ‘Alright, alright,’ he muttered, skirting past the other man before trudging towards the bathroom. 

 ‘I’ll finish this off, shall I?’ Arthur called but Merlin had already stepped onto the tiles and closed the door. Trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach he looked outside into London’s night-time while he undressed. As each article of clothing fell onto the shining tiles he felt both more at home and more petrified at the situation. Seeing Arthur half naked was one thing. It being his turn felt different. Different exhilarated him as much as it scared him. 

 Stepping into the shower he pushed down the right lever, keeping out of the water’s stream and testing it. Hot. So under he went and the water hit his head, shoulders, trickled and ran down around his body. Eyes closed he stood there, feeling it batter him so softly and reassuringly. For the first time he could remember, he smiled at his thoughts. The laughter, the enthralling eyes and feelings of confusion which ultimately left him content. Arthur.

 The knocking at the door brought him out of his revere.

 ‘Uh, I’ve got some spare pyjamas for you to change into. I’ll leave them on the floor just here for when you’re done,’ Arthur told him through the door. There it was again. He could feel his stupid grin. Was it stupid? He felt like a teenager all over again even with all the blood and hell that clung to him. A few more seconds under the water, borrowing some of Arthur’s shampoo, massaging it in, and then washing it out. Stepping out onto the small white rug he grabbed a towel. Quickly scrubbing it over every inch of himself to dry off and avoid the cold, Merlin held it around his waist and unlocked the door. On the ground he saw a neat square pile which he lifted up carefully and balanced on one hand to take back in and dress.

 

 

 ‘Merlin,’ Arthur said with a crooked smile, bent over the sofa and arranging several blankets.

 ‘Hm?’ Merlin hummed as he padded back into the living room, his clothes bundled under his arm. He was still adjusting to the loose fitting pyjamas Arthur had provided. A large grey t-shirt and dark blue plaid pyjama trousers. He wasn’t skin and bone, he did a lot of exercise and was by no means lanky but the clothes made him feel minuscule in comparison to Arthur’s even more evident bulk.

 ‘Your hair’s kind of . . .’ Arthur trailed off, amused and transfixed by the sight.

 Merlin looked up properly and remembered. He’d quite viciously towel-dried his hair, and hadn’t bothered with brushing or hand-combing. ‘Sticking out all over the place?’

 ‘It’s a good look for you. You should call it poetic expression,’ Arthur suggested, throwing a pillow at the one end of the sofa. ‘Make-shift bed. I hope you appreciate all the trouble I went to.’

 ‘Oh no, of course I do. Putting some blankets and a pillow onto a sofa must be such a chore for your majesty,’ Merlin mocked, walking around and falling down onto the soft seat.

 Arthur had folded his arms and straightened his back, eyes bearing down on him. ‘Just go to sleep.’

 ‘What if I’m not tired?’

 ‘Then just lay there and count sheep,’ Arthur muttered as he headed over to the light switch. The prospect of darkness set Merlin on edge. Every step Arthur took made his heart thud harder. Once he could feel it beating in his chest like someone banging one of those large and hauntingly loud ceremonial drums he jumped to his feet. He caught Arthur by the arm and shifted himself between the blonde and the switch on the wall. ‘What’re you doing?’

 ‘Let’s talk,’ Merlin suggested, slightly breathless. It was panic. Was he experiencing anxiety? Over what?

 ‘About?’

 Arthur’s narrowed eyes seemed dead set on going to sleep, so Merlin quickly rambled on in reply, ‘Anything. Everything. You can’t go to sleep.’

 ‘Are you sure about that, Merlin? Do you even have medical training?’ Arthur prodded, Merlin’s hand still grasped firmly around Arthur’s forearm.

 ‘I fixed your wound didn’t I?’

 ‘Beginner’s luck,’ he dismissed it.

 ‘Tell me about Westminster?’ Merlin pleaded.

 ‘Westminster?’

 ‘Yeah. Your university days. If you like we can swap stories?’ he suggested. 

 ‘Shut up, Merlin. It’s time for bed,’ he said firmly and moved forwards, Merlin going with him. Backed up against the wall, he felt Arthur’s hand brush past his ear and click the switch. Shadows swarmed into every nook and cranny without hesitation. Merlin felt the air buzz with Arthur’s presence.

 ‘I really don’t think it’s safe for you to sleep,’ he muttered, his last ditch effort to keep Arthur there. To stop the anxiety from driving him mad.

 ‘I have you here, don’t I?’

 ‘I can’t tell if you’re dead if we’re in different rooms,’ Merlin argued, the next second the heat flaring in his cheeks.

 ‘Merlin.’

 ‘Yes?’

 ‘You’re not sleeping in my bed,’ Arthur said.

 ‘Of course not.’

 ‘How about a compromise? Tomorrow morning you can wake me up. If I’m dead at least I won’t rot,’ he said with a smile in his words.

 ‘That’s horrible,’ Merlin said quietly.

 ‘True though. Good night, Merlin.’

 ‘Good night, Arthur.’

 He could still feel him, hand still by his ear. His heart nearly gave out when he felt the other man rest his forehead against his own, noses touching and breaths mingling together. The darkness didn’t scare him now. It didn’t mean Arthur would be lost. It meant Arthur would be closer.

 ‘Arthur,’ he whispered.

 ‘Merlin.’

 ‘Bed?’

 ‘I forgot. Sorry,’ Arthur murmured and Merlin could have sworn their lips almost touched. A slight breeze and Arthur was walking back to his own bedroom. Merlin’s eyes had adjusted enough to make out the murky silhouettes of the furniture, of Arthur’s figure leaving without another word.

 Slowly padding to the sofa he wiggled himself under the blanket, the feather pillow encompassing his head. The ghost of Arthur’s warm breaths and touch fled with Merlin’s mind as dreams dragged him down and under.


	6. To Drown In The Ocean

‘Do you recognise this woman?’ Arthur pressed, pushing the picture towards the wiry bartender. Merlin was sat beside him, observing every minute shift in the man’s expression and body language. The picture depicted the woman CCTV had recorded approaching the street entrance to the second way into the station. They’d spent the whole Thursday trying to identify her, to no avail. The second the bartender had been declared healthy enough to leave hospital care, Arthur had been there to clap on the irons.

 ‘No,’ the man said curtly, barely glancing at it.

 ‘Think carefully, Steven,’ Merlin said, noting how the man’s eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his first name. ‘Can I call you that? Steven?’

 ‘If you like,’ he said with a grunt, leaning back in the chair with arms folded across his chest.

 ‘Well, Steven. You can tell the truth or lie. One will help us and you. The other will get you a night in a cell and an extremely unhappy sergeant. He’s got quite a temper.’

 ‘Don’t try and intimidate me,’ he sneered.

 Merlin kept his eyes locked with the bartender’s. ‘I’m not. I’m being brutally honest. I’d appreciate it if you could do the same.’

 ‘I’m not saying nothing.’

 Arthur sighed loudly and leaned forward, hands folded on the table. ‘You know what? You’ll get much more than a night locked up. We can get your address in a matter of seconds, and with reasonable cause I can have your place searched. I’m sure you own a few things that you would prefer weren’t encountered by the police, and obstruction of justice won’t just get us the warrant but might land you with a few years locked away, let alone one night.’

 Merlin hid his smile and watched as the wiry man shifted uncomfortably, eyes fleeing Merlin’s sharp stare to look down at the picture.

 ‘We don’t have all day,’ Merlin added.

 ‘All I know is that she’s a regular. Her name’s Morgause. That’s it. All I know.’

 ‘What about that night?’

 ‘Of the murder, you mean? She picks up girls and lads almost every night. It wasn’t any different that day either,’ he said with a touch of loathing directed at them both, spitting it like venom from a snake.

 ‘Except the part where a girl wound up dead,’ Arthur said, placing a picture of Charlotte atop Morgause’s. ‘An officer will come escort you back to whatever hovel it is you crawled out of.’

 The wiry man’s jaw clenched in anger and Arthur stood, the chair scraping across the black tiled floor.

 ‘Don’t,’ Merlin paused, trying to word it the right way, ‘touch anything. Just . . . sit.’

 ‘I’m not a dog,’ the man asserted with irritation and a hurt ego.

 ‘Right,’ Merlin drawled out as he now left himself. The interview room door closed and when he turned he saw Arthur waiting for him.

 ‘I do not have a temper,’ he said matter-of-factly.

 ‘No? I must be thinking of a different royal prat,’ Merlin remarked with a sly grin as he brushed shoulders with the bemused DS. The rough fabric of Arthur’s sleeve snatched Merlin around the neck in a head lock.

 ‘I don’t have a temper, isn’t that right, Merlin?’

 ‘Yes, sire,’ he yielded after futile struggling and several disapproving glares.

 ‘I don’t mean to interrupt,’ the sonorous and distinctive voice said. Mordred. Merlin looked up, still in Arthur’s grip, into those stormy eyes which flashed with lightening. ‘But I think we should consider sending someone into the club undercover.’

 ‘They could pick up this Morgause. A few one-liners and flirting,’ Leon developed the theory, getting up from his seat and wandering over to join them. Arthur let Merlin slip out from his arm but remained within reach.

 ‘And do what?’ Elyan questioned, lounging at his own desk a few feet away, pen poised to fill out paperwork.

 ‘Wait and see if they get killed or screwed,’ Gwaine crudely said with an unashamed grin. ‘Either way I’m game.’

 ‘Tonight though,’ Percival began, patting Leon on the back. ‘We celebrate.’

 ‘You can drink, can’t you?’ Gwaine asked with fear, intently waiting for Arthur’s response.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Arthur said before looking at his constable. ‘Merlin, can I?’

 ‘Pretty sure you can,’ he said quietly before pressing his lips together and shrugging with honesty. ‘I have no idea.’

 ‘It’s gonna be at Pendragon manor?’ Elyan asked. Merlin was trying to tape all the information he was getting together, and so far had sussed out that they were having a party. That was it. Now ‘manor’ floated into his desperate arts and crafts mentality and he looked at it with shock.

 ‘Manor?’ he said, having no clue what to make of it.

 ‘They’re stinking rich,’ Gwaine informed him. ‘Arthur doesn’t want to touch his daddy’s money though; being the honest, hard working man he is.’

 ‘Thanks, Gwaine,’ Arthur said sharply,

 The easy grin spread again on his face. ‘Anytime.’

 ‘I, on the other hand, have no problem. West wing is all mine,’ Morgana interjected, joining them as if she’d been there the entire time. Merlin’s body stiffened slightly, going on high alert when they made eye contact. ‘Everyone knows where to go, except you, Merlin.’

 ‘I can give him a lift,’ Arthur suggested, looking around at everyone to see if anyone disputed it. Almost as if searching for their approval. Morgana’s eyes pierced him and Arthur both and Merlin could practically feel her draw out their shared laughter and intimate moments from the night before.

 ‘What about Gwen?’ Elyan said, the brotherly warning in his voice clear.

 ‘I could him him a lift as well Gwen,’ Arthur surmised as if it wouldn’t have any affect at all. 

 ‘I can take Merlin,’ Mordred’s dulcet voice remarked, and now Merlin felt two intense set of eyes land on him. One had malice, the other had something else . . . something which made his heart race and stomach twist.

 ‘You’re coming?’ Percy said with surprise. Merlin himself felt dread slither along in his veins.

 ‘I invited him, Percy,’ Arthur explained. ‘He’s already been there before for a few Met conferences.’

 Merlin felt lost but still trapped in the conversation, floundering to make sense of things.‘They hold conferences at your house?’

 ‘It’s bigger than a house, Merlin. My father’s the Detective Chief Superintendent. He has a lot of influence and old money. Showing it off is what he lives for.’ The derision was wrapped around each syllable he spoke. Merlin’s lips tried to lift with amusement at the man’s obvious dislike, but the piercing and suffocating eyes subdued it. 

 ‘Anyway, there’s always public transport. I don’t need a lift just the address,’ Merlin said.

 ‘Nah, I’ve got you, Mer,’ Mordred said, the following wink making him shudder.

 ‘Mer?’ Arthur repeated with a frown.

 ‘So, it’s settled. See you lot at seven. Leon, I hope you’re prepared for a night you’ll never forget,’ Morgana erupted and a her blood stained grin signalled the end of the discussion. Turning to her side with a calculating glint in her eyes she said, ‘Thank you, Mordred.’

 

 

 Merlin rushed out of his bedroom at the rapping on his door. One hand desperately trying to tug up the jeans he opened the door just a crack and looked through. He took in Mordred’s figure, the smart suit cut to accent his body’s elegant shape and the soft dark curls.

 ‘It’s formal?’ he said tightly, as he slowly pulled the jeans up to his hips to zip them up with one hand. Mordred’s thick eyebrows pushed together and Merlin swung the door open, revealing his casual attire. Also revealing the hand that was doing up the final button. Mordred’s eyes dropped to the ground and he cleared his throat; only looking up again to say, ‘Don’t worry, Merlin.’

 ‘I look like I’m going to the supermarket,’ he said with an embarrassed smile, folding his arms.

 ‘You look . . .’ Mordred trailed off, eyes drinking up every inch of Merlin. ‘Ravishing.’

 ‘I look what?’ he murmured, thrown by the intensity in Mordred’s tone. 

 There was a shift in the air and Mordred’s face broke with a grin. ‘Suit or no suit, you’re handsome so don’t worry, alright? Let’s go.’

 Merlin grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, stuffing them into his pocket and left with Mordred.

 

 

 In the night with nothing but street lamps and night lights to see the world by, it breathed danger. Excitement. Shadows and bright light glinting off of chrome and metal and then the black leather that was nothing more than dark expanse in the lighting. The evening wind was sharper and crueler now, and Merlin zipped up his jacket to fend it off.

 ‘A motorbike?’ Merlin remarked with awe and slight trepidation.

 ‘Yup. Don’t mind, do you?’

 ‘Uh, no, not at all,’ he said a little shakily, circling around the mechanical beast.

 ‘Just hold on tight and you’ll be fine,’ Mordred told him with a bemused expression. Swinging one leg over he grabbed the bike’s handles. His body seemed to become one with the creature, as if the two were of the same spirit. Kindred. Merlin caught the helmet Mordred threw to him just in time, feeling the smooth and hard plastic under his fingers. ‘I’ve only got the one.’

 Merlin stared at him with horror. ‘What?’

 ‘Just wear it and climb on.’

 ‘No, you take it. I’ll be fine,’ Merlin implored, feeling the heat in his veins pump with reassurance. He’d be fine. It was Mordred he was worried about. He didn't ponder too long on that disconcerting concern.

 ‘Don’t go trying to be a hero. I know my bike and there’s little to no chance of a crash,’ Mordred said and then gestured his head for Merlin to get on.

 ‘Seriously, you use it. I can just get the tube,’ Merlin insisted but Mordred grabbed a fistful of his sleeve and managed to tug him onto the motorbike’s frame. With some buried instinct Merlin lifted his leg up and over.

 ‘We don’t want to be late,’ Mordred said and then started the engine. The revving sent vibrations throughout the whole thing and Merlin felt an elated energy charge his mind and sensations. He quickly pulled the helmet down over his head and then everything seemed muted and so much more tantalising. Getting his feet into position and wiggling closer to the other man, he encircled Mordred’s waist with his arms. ‘Ready?’

 ‘Ready,’ he answered, heart leaping into his throat when he felt the jolt and the world started to run backwards while they charged forwards.

 

 

 The motorbike jogged slightly with the transition of pavement to gravel. It crunched under the wheels as they rode around the impressive marble fountain to the entrance. Trees and neatly trimmed hedges surrounded the area, all just accenting the huge manor which stood firmly rooted. It exuded power, posterity and privilege. Small lights ran along the outside, acting like spotlights on the cream, slightly golden, building.

 Navigating the cars already parked they finally came to a stop and Mordred kicked out the stand, cutting the engine. Merlin got off, still feeling the rush from the drive there, and removed the helmet. He breathed in the crisp air.

 ‘Wow,’ he huffed, looking at it all with amazement.

 ‘Gwaine wasn’t kidding,’ Mordred said, admiring the land himself.

 ‘Are you sirs Merlin and Mordred?’ a woman asked politely from the front door.

 ‘Yeah,’ Merlin answered, passing Mordred the helmet with a thankful grin. Taking it with one hand he used the other to neaten up the curls that had blown a bit wild with the fast speeds.

 ‘After you,’ Mordred said and Merlin headed to the woman, noting her simple but tailored clothing. She wasn’t young, wasn’t old. One of those people graced with an almost eternal and subtle beauty. Of course even the staff they had would be just as eloquent and striking as the Pendragons he’d met.

 She led them inside, offering to take Mordred’s helmet and store it away. The two walked side by side, wide eyes absorbing the splendour spilled without a care in the rooms and hallways they passed and wandered through. Stopping at an archway she bowed her head slightly and left them.

 The sounds of laughter and conversation floated lethargically towards them from the room. They entered and saw everyone gathered around in what Merlin could only assume was the living room. Lavish as well, and large, they were spread out. Gwaine and Percy were sat together on a antique-looking sofa, Elyan sat opposite them, all three with champagne glasses in hand. Arthur and Gwen were engrossed in conversation with Morgana making a comment every now and then but mostly concentrating on her own lively discussion with Leon.

 At sight of their approach, Gwen pointed and Arthur turned. His eyes crinkled with a smile which he quickly hid behind his hand.

 ‘Forgot to mention the dress code to Merlin,’ Mordred explained, patting Merlin on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

 ‘I don’t think it matters,’ Leon said, his comment bringing Morgana into the fold and she turned, eyes resting on Merlin. Her dress had a diving V-neck, a mixture of black silk and transparent panels with intricate patterns embroidered throughout. Gwen’s was equally formal and impressive: rich green with ruffles, silk, and a wide open neckline. He couldn’t help it when his smile faltered when he saw Arthur’s hand resting lovingly on her waist.

 ‘Now that we’re all here, I think its time to break out the music,’ Morgana said, her voice smooth and smile implacable. ‘Dinner’s being served in a couple of minutes.’

 ‘Thank you, Morgana, Arthur, for all this,’ Leon said earnestly.

 ‘You deserve it,’ Arthur said, only now leaving Gwen’s side to give his friend a hug. Merlin averted his eyes when Gwen rejoined her Arthur and then he remember Mordred who stood next to him.

 ‘Feeling a bit overwhelmed?’ Mordred guessed incorrectly.

 Merlin forced a grim smile. ‘A bit.’

 Soft music began to dance along through the air and relaxed the atmosphere, violins starting to cry out their life’s worth. After a minute or two everyone adjourned to the dining room, taking their seats at the table while another staff member poured everyone a fresh glass of champagne. The food was laid out, everything looking expensive and appealing, the scents swirling together into a blissful amalgamation that made Merlin drool.

 ‘To Leon,’ Morgana said while she lifted her glass in the air.

 ‘To Leon!’ everyone cheered, lifting their own and clinking it with whoever’s they could. Merlin had ended up sat beside Mordred, Arthur and Gwen diagonally opposite. Morgana sat at the end of the long oak table, Gwaine and then Percy to Merlin’s left. Leon was sipping his drink next to Arthur, with Elyan next to him.

 Conversation unravelled and roll off their tongues as the alcohol warmed everyone up and the food made life that much better. Even Merlin found himself grinning like a fool at Gwaine’s accounts of his time before the Met before "socially acceptable morals" as he called it. They touched on why Leon got his promotion and everyone got a share to delve into their past. Except himself and Mordred. Merlin navigated himself out of that topic for no other reason than being too intrigued in everyone else to give a damn about himself. He didn’t understand why Mordred was avoiding it, but he helped whenever he could.

 In the middle of Arthur recounting his first outing to a London club, complete with grins and inappropriate comments from everyone else, he felt Mordred’s hand brush against his own as the man reached for his glass. The contact sent a shiver down his spine and at that moment Arthur wrapped his arm around Gwen’s shoulders at his mention of her name.

 ‘You met her at the club?’ Merlin inquired, pulling his eyes away from Mordred’s hand.

 ‘Mhm. So, I’ve known you for . . .’

 ‘I think five, maybe six years,’ Gwen finished off for him.

 ‘Adorable,’ Gwaine remarked, on his third refill of champagne. ‘If everyone’s done I think we should retire to living room, don’t you?’

 Murmurs of agreement and Merlin was filing out with everyone else, still feeling slight off.

 ‘Do you have any other kind of music?’ Elyan asked Morgana.

 ‘If you have your phone we can plug that in. Granted you have good music tastes,’ she said.

 ‘I think the classical stuff makes it all that much more fancy,’ Leon commented with a tipsy smile.

 ‘I might have some good ones,’ Percy said, offering up his phone.

 ‘The dock is over there,’ Morgana said and they left to sort it all out. Elyan passed Gwen, nudging her elbow softly with wink, before heading over to join Gwain on the sofa. Merlin tried to ignore how close Gwen and Arthur were acting, they way they looked at each other with such adoration. He walked over to the sofa as well, followed by Mordred.

 ‘How’d you find your first motorbike ride?’ he asked quietly enough that no one else would hear.

 ‘Exhilarating,’ Merlin said, the feel of the cold wind blasting passed and the warmth of Mordred fresh in his memory.

 ‘Good,’ was all Mordred said in response. The violins wails softened and then disappeared altogether. Modern music began to beat out its rhythm triumphantly. The songs jumped, only the first few notes of each being heard as Morgana forwarded through Percy’s playlist.

 ‘There,’ Morgana said, pulling away from the speakers and dock. ‘Leon, if you’d be so kind to dance?’

 ‘It’d be my pleasure,’ he said and took her hand, the two going into the open space. Everything was touched with gold and silver, gentle and ambient. The song was soft, a light piano playing, and the lyrics just as tender as the notes shivered loudly through the air.

You heard my voice. I came out of the woods by choice

Shelter also gave their shade

But in the dark I have no name

Gwaine grabbed Elyan and hauled him up, the two jokingly slow dancing together. Merlin saw Percy take his champaign glass and lean back against the side table the speakers sat on. He didn’t seem willing to dance.

 Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Arthur invite Gwen to dance and they fitted together perfectly, swaying with smiles.

Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart

But I was sure we could see a new start

 Merlin felt Mordred run his hand over his own and their fingers laced together when he was pulled up. The fear, the disgust, twisted inside him; but then he looked into those stormy eyes. The darkness seemed to melt away and was left with something else. Almost akin to fondness. For someone he hardly knew. Then again, there was Arthur. The sergeant was plucked from his thoughts when he relaxed into Mordred, his hand resting in Mordred’s and the other on his shoulder. The warmth constricted and pumped wherever he was touched. He could almost taste the salt of the sea, smell the fresh and biting air as the storm merged with him. Cold yet burning all at once. A genuine smile tugged relentlessly at his lips and there was a light in Mordred’s eyes he hadn’t seen before.

So when your hope’s on fire

But you know your desire

Don't hold a glass over the flame

 The gentle tempo fell away with a faster beat and Mordred transitioned perfectly, taking Merlin by the hands and pulling him so close their chests pressed against each other.

I'm a hopeless wanderer

 They moved fluidly and in perfect rhythm to the music and Merlin’s cheeks hurt slightly with the force of his unstoppable grin. Leon and Morgana were laughing as well, twirling each other around, Gwain dipping Elyan far too low. Then he saw Gwen, hands locked with Arthur, as they danced. Merlin stumbled and pulled away from Mordred.

You brought me out from the cold

Now, how I long, how I long to grow old

 He reached for Merlin with worry. ‘Sorry, did I-’

 ‘No. Not you. Don’t worry, I just need some air,’ Merlin said, breathless from the dancing and his hammering heart. He left to the large patio doors and opened one, stepping out from the amber veil and into the bare darkness. The music was muffled slightly and he walked forwards to lean on the stone balcony. An impressive set of steps led down to the garden which, even in the dark, he knew was a sight to behold. Looking out at the silhouettes of trees and dying flowers Merlin took in a deep breath of the icy air. It cooled his burning skin and his heartbeat slowed. The warmth in his veins calmed down, returning to its languid movement.

 He kept looking out into the shadows when Mordred rested his forearms on the balcony next to him.

 ‘I get this weird feeling around you,’ Mordred said. ‘It’s like I’ve known you for . . . centuries almost. I told you when we met. As if we’ve met before. Sounds stupid, right?’

 ‘Actually, I know exactly what you mean,’ Merlin said with a chuckle. He couldn’t help but shiver at the similarity between Mordred’s words and those of Arthur’s.

 ‘You do?’

 Mordred’s hand blanketed his own and the sharp jolt of heat at the contact made Merlin flinch back.

 ‘What’s wrong?’ Mordred asked quickly, turning Merlin’s face gently to look at him. Several inches away he could still feel Mordred excavating his deepest thoughts and willing his secrets to spill forth.

 ‘I don’t know how to explain. It’s like,’ he paused and let himself feel the something that shifted under his skin, in his chest. ‘It’s like something’s inside me, and sometimes it makes me feel nauseous; sometimes I get this sense of dread that’s ridiculously painful; other times, it feels like I’m drunk: warm and intoxicated. In a way happy. Then it’s like I’m falling and nothing can stop me. No one can help. That’s what it’s like around you, I guess. None of it makes any sense.’

 He stared intently at Mordred when he finished, surprised as it his sudden openness. He’d never told anyone about the something he’d lived with for years. Again, the storm reached out to him and he found himself lost in the clouds. He didn’t know how it happened, but the next moment his lips were joined by Mordred’s. The beating wings. The chill closing cuffs around him. The shadows fed into him, slowly, passionately. 

 Mordred’s hand held him there behind his head, the other pressed against his neck and jaw. Fires seared in his mouth and the something was biting, clawing and hissing in rejection of the kiss but Merlin didn’t want to stop. He wanted to drown in the ocean. He needed to become a part of the seabed and join the shipwrecks, a relic, a possession, a memory. A shadow.

 ‘Merlin, are you alright?’ Arthur’s voice cut through the frothy waves.

 A sharp wintry blast through his body and Merlin tried to tug himself away, eyes shooting open in horror. Pushing against Mordred’s chest the other man didn’t let him escape, tongue and lips still unfinished. Finally he released him, the two panting and staring with wild eyes at the other.

 ‘I’m so sorry,’ Mordred rushed, and Merlin wanted to say it was okay but his voice couldn’t be summoned. Running a shaky hand through his hair he looked for Arthur, but the man was gone and the doorway empty.

 ‘Merlin, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me-’

 ‘It’s fine, Mordred, it’s fine,’ he breathed. ‘Let’s go back in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the song (Hopeless Wandered by Mumford & Sons):
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ptM0B4tcWM


	7. Haze

 ‘There you are, Merlin! With Mordred too,’ Morgana exclaimed with a wicked smile.

 ‘Just in time actually,’ Gwaine said, sauntering into the middle of the room with an empty wine bottle in hand. He threw it expertly into the air, watching it make three spins before he caught it by the neck. Merlin’s bristles softened at the comforting sight of Gwaine’s endearing arrogance. His eyes then met with Arthur’s stony expression, the arm wrapped around Gwen’s waist, only this time closer and more intimately: his fingers drawing small circles on the delicate jade fabric.

 ‘In time for what?’ Mordred asked.

 ‘Spin the bottle,’ Gwain replied as he knelt down and placed the dark glass onto the green and gold oriental rug.

 ‘I’m not drunk enough for this,’ Elyan sighed and downed his glass of champagne.

 ‘Elyan!’ Gwen scolded.

 ‘Sh, everyone gather around for this evening’s main event,’ Gwain said and dropped to the ground flawlessly, folding his legs and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Percy reluctantly drew himself away from his rather antisocial perch and joined them all as they sat in a circle on the rug. Gwain shifted forward and spun the bottle. It chose Mordred. Merlin watched him with fascination, the innocent and slightly concerned face was unrecognisable from the one filled with desire earlier. Mordred spun it and Morgana’s smile grew when it landed on her.

 ‘Now, no half-arsed peck on the cheek. Kiss like it’s your last day on Earth,’ Gwain instructed with a wicked glint in his eyes. Fires lashed at Merlin and he could smell the smoke while BRITAIN SHALL NOT BURN echoing in his mind.

 Morgana leaned forward onto all fours, Mordred shifting as well. Her pale arm outstretched and pulled him into a kiss by his tie. It was brief and when they pulled away from each other, despite his look of discomfort, he laughed with her. The smoke and fire disappeared again and the haze in Merlin’s vision departed. The memory crawled back into his mind and left him in peace with reality.

 ‘Next!’ Gwain exclaimed, spinning again. It landed on him. ‘Let’s see who the lucky sod is.’

 He spun it again and Merlin felt his stomach drop when it pointed its ambivalent neck at him.

 ‘I, uh, you know, this is just a game, and,’ Merlin stumbled before Gwain cut in saying: ‘Oh, come on, Merlin. I don’t bite. Much.’

 Merlin forced himself to move towards the charming Irish man and when they were close enough to feel each other’s breath Gwaine murmured, ‘Now, this is rather intimate. Ignoring the audience and the fact a bottle decided this fate, that is.’

 ‘Oh, yeah, very romantic,’ Merlin said sarcastically, stiff shoulders relaxing.

 ‘Snarky. I like it,’ Gwaine said before he pressed his mouth to Merlin’s. Merlin could feel the man’s bristly stubble against his skin, the strangely rough but soft lips, the minty breath laced with alcohol. Then the subtle but strong scent of aftershave. It wasn’t brief. When Gwaine parted his lips it became the complete opposite of brief.

 ‘Whew,’ Gwaine breathed when they separated, Leon applauding and the others grinning and chuckling. All except Arthur. ‘You’re one hell of a kisser, Merlin, and you were barely trying.’

 A blush bloomed on his face and Merlin fell back onto the floor, noticing Mordred’s heady look and then, daring a glance to Arthur, the blonde’s hardened eyes.

 The next series of spins chose Arthur and Gwen.

 The heat twisted in him as he watched them move together, Gwen’s evident embarrassment and Arthur’s glamour of confidence. Merlin could see his apprehension though.

 ‘You don’t have to,’ he told her, eyes spilling over with care and consideration.

 ‘I’m happy to,’ she said and then closed the gap between them. It was just a moment and then Gwen left with a proud smile, one shared by Arthur.

 ‘Is that enough to satisfy you, Gwaine?’ Percy asked with exasperation.

 He pressed his palms together, mockingly begging, ‘One last spin? Please?’

 ‘Go on, then,’ Elyan said and Gwaine leaped forward, spinning it again. Merlin watched as the black glass turned, blurring slightly with the light glinting off its surface. Him. It chose him. His heartbeat became heavier and then the bottle was turning again, fast, fate flying around wildly and carelessly. Arthur. His mouth became dry and he could feel the pulse in his ears, in his fingertips. The two leaned forward, not smiling, not giggling. In his eyes Merlin saw something terrifying. Something cold. He could feel Mordred watching, Gwen staring with amusement thinking nothing of what was happening. His stare dropped to Arthur’s lips. The soft pink colour and slightly fuller bottom lip.

 ‘Hey, blame the bottle,’ Arthur said, laughing awkwardly, but the ice was still sharp in his eyes.

 ‘Right,’ Merlin said, trying to laugh it off. The attempt was poor and laughter didn’t help. He felt Arthur’s breath caress his own lips and he recalled the night he’d spent at his flat, how close they’d been. He wanted that warmth again. They kissed. It wasn’t pulling him into any storm. It didn’t make him think about Arthur’s breath or the feel of his lips. The sensations were there but they were secondary. It just made everything feel more real. Lighter. Better. The something was flooded with an even more overpowering heat that brought with it nothing but the sensation of being right. Of this being right. Arthur hadn’t pulled away yet and the kiss deepened slightly, his hand finding its way to cup Merlin’s face, thumb resting on his cheek. Slowly they parted.

 Arthur cleared his throat and jumped to his feet, Merlin sitting back down with relief that no one seemed to have a second thought as to what just transpired. Mordred, however, seemed more subdued, and Morgana’s narrowed eyes studied Merlin, her mouth curling up at the edge.

 ‘Now that that’s done with,’ Arthur stammered, apparently flustered from the kiss. ‘What shall we do? Leon?’

 ‘No idea,’ Leon admitted.

 ‘Call it a night?’ Percy suggested, clearly not feeling the party spirit. Everyone got up and Gwen took Arthur by his arm. Merlin felt slightly lost, his emotions erratic, but Mordred stood by him. Grounding him.

 ‘None of us are drunk enough yet,’ Morgana complained.

 ‘Is that where Elyan gets it from?’ Gwen said with a shocked laugh.

 Morgana gave a sweet smile. ‘It’s true though. Celebrations can’t be complete without a splitting hangover. It’s the sign of a good time. More drinks and pleasant conversation?’

 ‘One step ahead of you,’ Gwaine said with a huff, arms filled with beer bottles. At some point he’d left into the kitchen. Merlin couldn’t help feeling impressed with how quiet and unnoticeable Gwaine could be when he tried. ‘I hope you don’t mind I raided your fridge.’

 Drinks and pleasant conversation ensued, the topics ranging from politics to admiring Leon to more racy subjects. Eventually their numbers began to dwindle, the first to leave being Elyan, then Percy, then even Leon, much to everyone’s dismay. Merlin’s world became fuzzier and much funnier. He was lying on the floor, staring up at the chandelier, amidst a laughing fit. For some reason he couldn’t get over the glass, crystal, diamond, whatever it was made of. How it sparkled and showed him so many worlds. Either he was imagining it, was way too drunk, or the tiny figures he saw dancing and writhing in the shards were real. It didn’t matter. spinning

 He was vaguely aware that Morgana and Mordred were engrossed in conversation and Gwen was giggling at his own state.

 ‘I probably need to go now,’ Gwen said sadly, still grinning at Merlin’s drunken behaviour.

 ‘Morgana!?’ a voice called.

 ‘Father!’ she said, snapping out her stupor and getting to her feet as he marched into the room. He took in the scene before him. Merlin was fascinated by the man’s scar and stern expression.

 ‘I trust you all enjoyed yourselves?’

 ‘But of course, your Majesty,’ Merlin said with a clumsy grin, but then he was filled with an incorrigible fear. ‘You’re not going to burn me at the stake, are you?’

 ‘What?’ Arthur said, thrown by Merlin’s odd question.

 ‘No. No, I’m not,’ Uther said, unamused but not offended. Yet. ‘Will your guests be staying over or getting cabs home?’

 ‘Cab,’ Mordred answered on everyone’s behalf.

 ‘Good. Nice to see you, Arthur.’

 ‘You too, father,’ Arthur said, pressing his lips together into a strained smile.

 ‘I’ll call the taxi service just now,’ Morgana alerted everyone and went to the land line, tapping in the number.

 

 

 

 Merlin sat crammed between Arthur and Mordred. He wished for those odd glass pieces of the chandelier. Even Morgana’s terrifying gaze. Anything but the situation he was now trapped in. He could see Gwen’s content, slightly tipsy, smile as she sat in the front seat. Things became a touch clearer and he could feel the tension. Taught enough he could flip a coin against it. Arthur was staring out of the window, silent, with his elbow on the window sill and head resting against his knuckles.

 Mordred however was resting his hand Merlin’s leg. Not completely, but enough to send a strange buzz through him. The silence pervaded and Merlin kept his hands clasped together in his lap, feeling his head swirl with the alcohol.

 The cab rumbled as they drove down his street and taxi driver stopped in front of his building. Mordred climbed out for Merlin, and when his feet hit the pavement and he stood facing the man there was that lull again. Slowly disgust was being suppressed by a strange attraction.

 The words left of their own accord. ‘Do you want to come in?’

 ‘Sure,’ Mordred said with a curious look in his eyes. Merlin smiled and turned to close the taxi door, eyes meeting Arthur’s. He was staring right back at him, no longer out the window. His eyes seemed confused, sad. The buzz in Merlin’s veins told him he was probably imagining it.

 ‘See you Monday?’ Gwen checked kindly. Arthur said nothing.

 ‘Yeah,’ Merlin said, slamming the door shut and charging to the building’s door, opening it for Mordred.

 

 

 

 Entering his flat Merlin became acutely aware of what was happening. Mordred, the black wings, the fire, the anguish, and here he was. In his home. With him.

 Turning on the lights he quickly let go of that train of thought and asked, ‘Coffee?’

 ‘That’d be great, thanks,’ Mordred said as he entered, shutting the door with care and looking around with curiosity. Merlin threw off his jacket and turned on the kettle, hearing it sputter and jiggle as it began to heat up the water. He took out two mugs, the coffee pot, sugar, teaspoon. Arranging it all on the work surface and then hands slipped around his hips, lips pressing against his neck. He felt the heat, damp breath, and saw the many colours of the kitchen’s wall blur together, swirling. Each bright colour drowned the next. Merlin shuddered. It felt wonderful, loving, exciting but there was another edge. A sharp one, a hungry one, one filled with fear and shame and it all collided in Merlin’s weary and sozzled mind.

 He turned around, Mordred’s hands sliding to fit around his waist. They were pressed together, Merlin leaning against the work surface.

 ‘You’re beautiful,’ Mordred murmured as if hypnotised. Merlin’s face heated up and then their lips pressed against one another for the second time that night. The cold waves washed over him and he embraced Mordred, keeping him close. Physically he was lost to the world, gone away into Mordred and everything he was. Everything he knew that was impossible for him to know. The warmth in his veins didn’t simply constrict and twist his nerves however; this time it was violent and pain burst in his head, the nauseous feeling more potent than ever. Merlin broke the kiss with heavy breathing and eyes squeezed shut, trying to chase away the headache. The drunken haze was gone and he was left with a hard reality. The water pulled away, slinking back into its deep abyss and the colours left. Left to their hard tiled restraints.

 ‘Merlin,’ Mordred breathed, stepping away instantly. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t - I thought that-’

 ‘Something’s just . . .’ Merlin said, opening his eyes and looking at the man with soft eyes. ‘I don’t know. It’s like what I explained earlier. I’ll just finish the coffee.’

 Mordred smiled with understanding and wandered over to the small and quaint living room, taking a seat and picking up one of the books Merlin had left lying on a side table. Merlin finished making the coffee, the warmth in his blood subsiding somewhat. It was still there, lurking, warning. Threatening. It had calmed enough for Merlin to forget about it and control the sensations, even the headache now dissipating. He joined Mordred on the sofa with the coffee.

 ‘Are you and Arthur-’

 Merlin stopped him with raised hand and an awkward chuckle. ‘No.’

 ‘You don’t know what I was going to say,’ Mordred said, putting his coffee to one side.

 ‘I can guess, and we’re not involved,’ Merlin said, taking a sip of the bittersweet liquid and then placing it down on the table.

 ‘Do you want to be?’

 Merlin could hardly fathom the severity and melancholy in his voice. ‘I’ve only known him for five days.’

 ‘And you’ve known me for four,’ Mordred countered with a sombre smile. ‘Personally, I know that I like you already. A lot.’

 Merlin couldn’t find the right words, so instead he said, ‘Have you always lived in London?’

 Mordred smiled to himself before going along with the change in topic. ‘No, I came here when I started University.’

  Merlin silently thanked him for letting them drop the subject that brought the fear and passion and pain to the surface. Burying it deep inside, Merlin pursued more trivial conversation and the two talked the night away.

 

 

 

 His eye lids were heavy and when he’d forced them to open he found everything to be slower. Dark locks moved with his breath and he found their movement endlessly intriguing. Then the pounding began in his head.

 ‘Ow,’ Merlin murmured, trying to shift. A large something behind him and in front stopped him. Frustrated he wiggled more, trying to futilely escape. Pulling his knees up he used his feet to push whatever it was, and it slid off with a thud and a groan. Ah. Mordred.

 ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, sitting up straight, rubbing his eyes and then stretching his stiff muscles.

 ‘You don’t have any Ibuprofen, do you?’ Mordred asked quietly through a yawn.

 ‘Kitchen, top shelf of the cupboard. Above the toaster,’ he directed, shifting his feet to touch the floor and holding his head in his hands, everything feeling a little off. Mordred got to his feet and shuffled to get the pain killers. The details of the party were fuzzy, but Merlin knew they’d get clearer as the day went on. ‘So, last night was eventful.’

 ‘That’s one way to put it,’ Mordred said, chuckling as he pushed two of the pills out and swallowed them with some water. He turned to look at Merlin and there was that light in the storm. The next second it was as if a shadow had fallen over Mordred’s face and he saw someone else smiling at him. A dark, warped smile with eyes consumed by regret, frustration and a deep sadness, a deep fury. The oceans burned away.

 ‘Merlin?’

 He almost jumped at how close the voice was and realised that Mordred was now sat next to him. He was resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, the other on his knee, drawing him back into the moment.

 ‘As uh,’ Merlin began, voice rougher from having just woken up. ‘As nice as this was, I think I need to get some rest.’

 ‘We were chatting for hours last night,’ Mordred reasoned, assuming that’s why Merlin was acting so out of character. Then again, around Mordred, he acted like this most of the time. ‘Can I have your number?’

 ‘Obviously,’ Merlin said to Mordred’s delight and he read it out to the man as he typed it into his mobile. Showing him to the door, Mordred stopped and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He felt the weight of Arthur’s dying body in his arms. He remembered the claws of dirt dragging him under. He felt his skin tingle where Mordred’s lips had so tentatively and caringly pressed.

 The phone was ringing in his ear not a minute after Mordred had left.

 Arthur picked up. ‘Merlin? Are you safe? Did Mordred do something?’

 ‘What? No, no, Mordred didn’t do anything,’ Merlin reassured him. ‘What are you talking about?’

 ‘Just,’ Arthur started before falling silent. ‘Just checking. Why did you call?’

 ‘I wanted to make sure you’re okay, drinking with a head injury and all,’ Merlin reasoned, but he knew that it was instinct which had dragged him from the doorway to call him. Instinct and his scornful acquaintance fear. A part of him kept feeling Arthur die. He’d yet to shake it.

 ‘Oh. I’m okay. Gwen is a little worse for wear, though.’

 Merlin leaned against the wall, grip tightening around the phone. ‘Gwen’s there?’

 ‘Uh, yeah, she is. She stayed over, but nothing really happened,’ Arthur said, and Merlin could picture the man’s fingers running along the green fabric, running along Gwen’s skin. It made him happy for the sweet girl, the kind Gwen, but then sad as well. ‘So what did you and Mordred get up to?’

 ‘Nothing much. He’s just left and I-’

 ‘He slept round yours?’

 ‘Yeah, and he sleeps like a log,’ Merlin remarked with a grin. ‘I can hardly believe it’s possible to sleep so heavily.’

 ‘Merlin, I better go,’ Arthur said, his voice distant as if pulled away from the phone.

 ‘Oh.’

 ‘Gwen’s making her surprisingly edible pancakes and I don’t want to miss out. You should use the weekend for some hardcore TLC, okay? When Monday comes we hit the ground running.’

 ‘You don’t work over weekends?’

 ‘Gwaine’s going undercover at Ambrosia tonight, and we’ll have to wait for him. No other leads,’ Arthur said with defeat. Merlin drummed his fingers against the plaster on the wall.

 ‘I see . . . Bye then.’

 ‘Bye, Merlin.’

 The call ended. Merlin turned the phone off and threw it onto the sofa. Pulling off his shirt as he entered his small bathroom he turned the shower on. Waiting for the water to heat up he mulled over his first week at Scotland Yard. How the case was going, the jacket, Morgause, and the warmth inside him that had a growing life of it’s own.


	8. Left To Drown

 The home phone blared at him and Merlin sighed. He left the book, closing off the escape, and got up from the sofa. Dragging his feet he answered with a tired, ‘Hello?’

 ‘Gwaine needs help in Soho. Morgause has taken someone out of the club and he’s gone after them,’ Arthur alerted him, panting heavily into the phone.

 Merlin’s brain switched on completely. ‘Any idea where they were heading?’

 ‘North towards Reagent’s Park,’ Arthur huffed and Merlin could hear the engines of passing cars and chatter of people over the line.    

 He started turning off his flat’s lights. ‘Right. I’ll leave now then.’

 ‘Be careful, Merlin. She’s a killer. Serial for all we know.’

 ‘I know,’ he muttered back and hung up.

 Grabbing his phone, jacket, then tugging on his shoes he left his flat within five minutes and ran out into the night.

 Catching his breath once he jumped into a tube car, Merlin checked his phone and felt his stomach drop at the lack of updates. Warm air bombarded him from all sides and his hand was sweating, gripped around the green pole. Charing Cross ran across the notice board in electronic orange and the train slowed, doors hissing open. Blasted with air again his hair flew around wildly as he dashed for the next train. Bumping shoulders with people and skirting around the large crowds his chest was heaving by the time he managed to get onto the train heading to Goodge Street.

 In his mind the coloured lines of the underground map darted in all directions, dark letters blooming into life along the lines like leaves on each branch of a tree. He was blind when it came to above ground. A burning in his chest shook him back into focus and seared away his fear, just in time. The doors opened and he moved with the crowd out and up at a painfully slow pace. 

 Soon enough he broke free and breathed in the cold winter air, flashing lights and night life beating all around him. Merlin headed to Ambrosia and then began to scour the streets around it. He ran around the streams of strangers, studying each face for a second and eliminating the possibility of it being Morgause. Going North his heart was hammering faster and faster. No news from Arthur. From anyone. Death mocked him with the smiling faces of those who passed. Oblivious while someone’s life was hanging in the balance.

 Staring into the shadows of alleys and doorways, looking through windows of shops and buildings, and asking people if they’d seen someone with Morgause’s description. It all came to no avail. Pulling out his phone he called Arthur but it rang out.

 ‘Shit,’ he murmured and started his search again. Clipstone Street. The street sign was drenched in the street lamp light. Turning down it his eyes wandered over the brick and blackened windows of the towering buildings on either side. Only a few trees stood as reminders of nature, the rest were of man’s making. Around the corner was a quieter, secluded path. Standing at its mouth, Merlin examined the wall of darkness and through it he could see them.

 ‘Mordred?’ he said, slowly coming towards them. Mordred was on the ground, holding a limp man in his arms. ‘What happened?’

 ‘I couldn’t save him,’ Mordred said. His voice was broken, lower, strangled. ‘He was screaming, Merlin. His face . . . My god . . .’

 ‘Mordred,’ Merlin said again and approached him, cautiously, and crouched down next to him. He could see his pale face and wide eyes. It was an expression of shock Merlin had never seen a person wear before. Putting his hand on the man’s shoulder he gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘This wasn’t you. This was the Old Religion. Not you. Do you hear me?’

 ‘Merlin,’ Mordred whispered, finally drawing his eyes away from the dead body to meet Merlin’s. ‘I watched him die. I couldn’t stop it. I was here and I couldn’t save him.’

 ‘Merlin!’ Arthur erupted, running towards them with everyone else following close behind. He came to a halt when he realised the scene before him. ‘Dammit. Dammit. God dammit!’

 Gwaine pulled Arthur away quickly while Gaius and Morgana came towards them. Merlin looked back to Mordred and gently tugging on his shoulder said, ‘We need to leave now. We need to let Gaius take care of this man, okay?’

 Mordred had receded into himself. It wasn’t bright enough to make out the storm in his eyes. Merlin wanted to see it, to know where he stood, how Mordred was coping. If he could just see.

 ‘Merlin, let me take care of Mordred. Arthur needs your help,’ Morgana told him. The warmth throbbed through his veins and his instinct was to stay, to keep her away. Arthur was pacing at the entrance of the gap between the two buildings, his face taught and irritated. Reluctantly Merlin stood and watched as Morgana spoke to Mordred. He got up after placing the dead man on the pavement. Heading to the DS, Merlin could feel his own body rejecting the choice he’d made. It was agonising.

 Arthur’s feet stopped at Merlin’s approach. ‘Is he okay?’

 ‘No,’ he said grimly.

 ‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur said,

 ‘For what? It’s not your fault these people are being killed,’ Merlin remarked sourly. ‘It’s not your fault it’s being done in such a cruel-’

 ‘And impossible,’ he cut in.

 ‘Way,’ Merlin finished as he watched PCs keeping the public back while setting up the barrier of police tape. ‘They’re cornering this section off?’

 ‘Yeah they are. At least now we know it’s Morgause,’ Arthur noted.

 Merlin crossed his arms. ‘Actually we don’t.’

 ‘What are talking about?’ he questioned, 

 ‘The fabric found at Regis House?’ Merlin started, and Arthur’s nod insured he knew what he was talking about. ‘It doesn’t match what she was wearing.’

 ‘She could have taken a coat or jacket off,’ he pointed out.

 ‘I suppose, but-’

 ‘Don’t tell me you have the gut feeling,’ Arthur said with reproach.

 ‘Afraid so,’ he answered with sympathy for his DS’s fatigued state.

 ‘That’s just perfect,’ Arthur murmured, running his hand down his face. ‘So, it wasn’t Morgause. Not for the first murder.’

 He marvelled at how swiftly Arthur had taken aboard his own instincts about the tricky situation. ‘You’re willing to bank so much on my gut feeling? Not exactly the smartest move.’

 ‘See, Merlin, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re an idiot and rather useless in a lot of things, but then I’ve only known you for a week,’ Arthur explained and Merlin’s fear settled slightly with the insulting distraction. ‘Despite all that you do show something akin to wisdom. In fact, I believe it is wisdom. If you’re wrong, you’ll be the one getting reprimanded anyway, so I’ve got nothing to lose.’

 He grinned at Merlin, but it didn’t touch his sombre eyes. Morgana passed them both with Mordred in tow.

 ‘Where are you taking him?’ Merlin questioned, moving out in front of her. She stopped short of walking right into him. She gave him a look of incredulous offence. 

 ‘Home. He’s in shock,’ she remarked, the concern in her voice so disturbingly fake Merlin could practically see her wear it as a mask.

 ‘Shouldn’t he go to the hospital?’

 ‘He’s not physically wounded,’ Arthur supported Morgana without hesitation although he did give Merlin a reassuring pat. ‘Take him home, Morgana.’

 Merlin stepped aside. Inside his body cold winds lashed against the tearing fires. Mordred looked back to him, and now in light Merlin could see the man’s eyes. The blue was darker, the seas in them frozen, languid, and the clouds heavy, drooping too close to the ocean’s surface. He wanted to go to him, to keep him away from Morgana. But Arthur’s presence beside him reminded him he had a job to do.

 Clearing his throat, Arthur turned to Gaius who returned from his preliminary examination of the body.

 ‘I’m going to need you both to provide DNA samples later, so I can eliminate you from the forensics,’ he told them before returning to this work and coordinated the forensics officers who were arriving on scene.

 ‘I’ll get Percy to check the CCTV cameras while we go question some witnesses,’ Arthur decided, indicating to Merlin to follow. They headed away from the police cars, flashing blue lights and interested citizens back to Ambrosia. Merlin had no idea what to say, his fear still trained on Mordred and Morgana.

 Approaching the club’s entrance they saw Cenred watching while his workers filtered out all the customers.

 ‘Getting rid of any and all witnesses, evidence too, right?’ Arthur insinuated as they marched up to him. ‘Stop them and bring everyone back in. Now.’

 ‘It’s closing time,’ Cenred sneered.

 ‘You close at three a.m., don’t you?’ Merlin asked, checking his phone. ‘I make it only eleven forty two p.m.’

 ‘Fine,’ Cenred said with a hard glare. While they pulled everyone back Merlin noticed how close Arthur was standing. Their shoulders were almost touching.

 ‘What is it?’ Cenred asked curtly.

 ‘A man’s been murdered. Right after leaving your club. If you don’t mind, DC Emrys and I will be talking to a few of your patrons,’ Arthur informed him, upper lip pulled up with disgust and body buzzing with agitation. They escorted Cenred inside and began with their questions, taking a few people at a time into Cenred’s office and drilling them. Merlin felt the dread of how long it was going to take and that they weren’t going to get a wink of sleep.

 

 

 ‘Thank you,’ Mordred said once they reached the door to his flat. ‘I’ll be fine.’

 ‘Oh no, I insist I at least make you some tea,’ Morgana implored, hovering too close to him. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but tea always helps me calm down.’

 ‘I’m not sure if I even have tea,’ Mordred muttered, turning back to the door and fitting in the key. The sight of his hand trembling made him grit his teeth. He was scared. He’d vowed never to be scared again yet there he was. Shaking.

 ‘I’ll improvise,’ she insisted with a sweet smile. Mordred could feel the weight of her words push against him and with a resigned huff he unlocked his door and let her in. Breezing past him she took in his studio flat, piercing eyes stabbing at everything they could set their sights on: the dark oak floor, the peeling beige cement walls, the bookshelves and odd ornaments resting atop the fireplace’s mantelpiece. ‘Kitchen?’

 ‘Just over there,’ he pointed at it and shut the door, letting his black coat fall down his arms and then hung it up on a hook. Without hesitation she floated through the archway, not before pausing to study the platform on the far side. On it stood a wooden stool, his easel and a work in progress, then more bookshelves. He could hear her searching while he tugged off the chocolate coloured scarf and sank down into his small sofa. The charcoal sat cold and motionless, deprived of fires to crackle and sputter within it.

 She came back out holding his cup of tea. She’d chosen one of the fine china cups. Even adorned it with a saucer.

 ‘So, there was some tea?’

 ‘Hiding behind old imported coffee,’ she said and perched next to him, handing it out to him with a caring smile. Mordred forced himself to smile lightly and took a cautious sip. It was sweet. Ridiculously and almost sickeningly so.

 ‘Is it alright?’

 ‘Yup,’ he lied and took another sip to confirm his lie.

 ‘Good,’ Morgana said while settling in more. ‘How are you and Merlin?’

 ‘Why do you want to know?’

 ‘Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to talk about something happy. Merlin makes you happy, doesn’t he?’

 The past began knocking against his thoughts. Scratching at the entrance. He could hear the crying. He could hear the shouts. ‘He does.’

 ‘Merlin does have something special about him, wouldn’t you agree?’ Her voice drowned out as the memories became stronger. Mordred examined the fine cracks in the charcoal, trying to keep present, but he was being dragged back. The crying was so loud it was as if a child were in tears just outside his front door. ‘It’s okay to become more public about your relationship.’

 ‘I wouldn’t call it a relationship,’ he murmured, feeling the pressure around his wrists, the cold terror that was starting to strum that familiar beat in his limbs.

 ‘Mordred?’

 ‘Sorry. I’m not feeling . . .’ his voice left him when he felt the hot breath cutting into his face. Years stripped away and what was became what is. 

 ‘You’ve got tea and you’re home safe. Your safety is what’s important to me, so I’ll leave you to rest,’ Morgana prattled, taking the cup and placing it down on the side table before she stood. Mordred didn’t watch her leave. His fingers dug into the edge of the sofa as the floor fell away. The cement crumbled into ash. The books burned and left as smoke. The paints and canvas, the pictures and china figurines all cracked and spilled and melted away.

 Heat wrapped around him and the searing, sweaty hand was clamped down over his mouth again. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t move. Enveloped in the stifling warmth and darkness he tried to fight it, tried to cry out, but he was trapped. 

 It was happening. It was pain. It was shame. It was helplessness. It was horror.

 Mordred heaved in a breath and choked with the shock. Reality put itself back together again and he left the sheets. Left his old room. Left the monster. He threw himself from the sofa, hands running into his hair and gripping the curls tightly. Silent, tearless cries shook him and his back hit the wall. Sinking down he pulled his knees up, locking his arms around them. Burying his head down the hands and fingers ran over his body, the breath against his ear sending repulsed and terrified shivers through his body.

 Real tears fell, carving themselves into his skin and stinging his eyes. Old wounds burst with new agony over his body and in his mind. Then a freezing and thick substance formed in his core. Hand to his chest his tears stopped and terror held him motionless. Like a ball in his chest cavity, he could feel it. Against his bones and organs and the next moment it burst. Whatever it contained swarmed around inside him until it coated every part of his existence. The ice touched his mind and everything that had happened crashed into him with one final blow. 

 One blow too many.

 A drop of black ink into the waters of his thoughts and Mordred could only see him. Merlin. The angles of his face as shown by the dark curling liquid which shaped him perfectly. The unwanted caress and fright felt by his past self was now locked down and tamed. He funnelled those sensations and together with his own cravings an abomination took its first breath within Mordred’s shell. Who he was and wanted to be was anchored down at the bottom of an ocean, left to drown, while the new creature got back to its feet. 

 Taking in its surroundings with new eyes, Mordred put his hand to his face and drew it back wet. Nose crinkling up with derision at the sight he dried of his face. Tearing off his clothes he searched in the drawers of the bureau and clothed himself with a new focus. A new want. New purpose.

 In the mirror he could see that same old face. It grinned back at him. What he’d feared now made his heart race and thoughts surge all for the one thing. 

 ‘Merlin,’ he tested out the name. It felt heavy and sweet on his lips. He wanted to bite into it. The world was shrouded, clouded, with something, but that one name and thought remained painfully clear and bright. The smile he wore grew and he said it one more time, the ink image of the man now tattooed behind his eyes: ‘Merlin.’


	9. A Sky On Fire

‘God damn it!’ Arthur yelled, kicking a metal bin and sending its contents flying out across the pavement. Merlin’s ears protested at the loud noise of the metal clanging down on the hard ground. He stepped out from Ambrosia and into the brisk morning air. His eye lids were heavy and his body ached from the lack of sleep but he shook it off and ambled towards Arthur. 

 ‘I think that counts as damaging government property. I could report you,’ Merlin said lightly, but at the look of weary anger in Arthur’s eyes he left vague humour for another time. ‘Look, we’re still further than we were. It’ll be fine. We can and we will figure this out.’

 ‘I’m taking him in,’ Arthur said, staring out down the street. Ignoring him.

 ‘Who?’

 Spinning around he marched pass Merlin. ‘Cenred.’

 

 

 Merlin had to jog to keep up with Arthur’s impossibly determined and quick pace. He even felt slight pity for Cenred who was being dragged along with the DS, hands cuffed and wearing a stupidly bemused expression. They entered their floor and Merlin saw the entire team there, discussing and researching. Checking his watch he swallowed the shock at the electronic six and more stunning ‘a.m.’ that shone back at him. Some PCs were left to deal with the people at Ambrosia while he and Arthur took Cenred in.

 ‘Where the hell have you two been?’ Gaius demanded, hurrying towards them. His aged face seemed even older, but his eyes were glittering with knowledge.

 ‘Not now, Gaius,’ Arthur said and went straight to an interview room, throwing Cenred inside and following behind.

 Merlin was going to join them when Gaius touched his arm and held him back. ‘Merlin, the second victim is different.’

 He could see the weight on Gaius’ shoulders, the concern in his eyes. His stomach twisted but he still asked, ‘How?’

 ‘He left a note,’ he said while he dipped a hand into his lab coat’s pocket and presented a receipt sealed in an evidence bag. Merlin took it and then saw what was so disconcerting. It was from Ambrosia’s bar and on the back was a mobile number. Gaius no doubt realised it could well be the number of the killer which could help lead them to Morgause. It was so much worse though. He knew the number well. Mordred had read it out to him just before kissing him as he left after the party. Mordred’s voice recited it to Merlin as he read it for himself on the receipt.

 ‘Merlin!’ Arthur beckoned, poking his head out from the interview room. ‘Get this bastard’s file from my desk!’

 Gaius lifted a gray eyebrow skeptically when Merlin quickly tucked the bag into his jacket’s pocket. ‘Don’t tell anyone about this, please? I’ll handle it.’

 ‘I trust your judgement,’ he said quietly while watching Merlin with those concerned eyes. Pressing his lips together to feign thanks Merlin left.

 He saw the folder laying next to the keyboard on Arthur’s desk with no problem. It was the only thing arguably neat on the desk. Everything else was disorganised and Merlin couldn’t even think how Arthur found things. Picking it up he was about to head to the room when he saw the photograph. Framed and sitting next to the computer screen. Merlin’s heart thumped rapidly.

 A smiling Arthur with Uther’s arm around his shoulders. On the other side, Morgana looking equally content and her father’s arm around her shoulders as well. He blinked hard and looked again. The shade and the texture. It was difficult to be one hundred percent sure, but Merlin knew the jacket Morgana was wearing.

 Dread stirred in his chest and he hurried to the interview room with the file. Once he closed the door he kept to the side with wide eyes.

 ‘Your club is the common denominator in these murders,’ Arthur shouted at Cenred, knuckles against the table as he leaned toward to the sleazy club owner. Merlin could see a sky on fire in Arthur’s eyes. The blue was worn through and fraying, burning at the edges.

 ‘I can’t help it if I’m popular, now can I?’

 ‘This isn’t a joke!’ Arthur yelled, fist coming down on the table. ‘I would like nothing better than to see you rot away in a cell for the rest of your life.’

 ‘You need to practice your sweet talk, detective,’ Cenred sneered. Arthur shifted to the other side of the table with impressive speed and he kicked the back legs of the chair. Cenred hit the ground.

 ‘That’s enough!’ Merlin leaped between the two and grabbed the DS by his arm. Arthur’s muscles were tensed, buzzing with violent energy. ‘Come on.’

 ‘Merlin, let go of me,’ he warned, resisting his hold.

 ‘Trust me when I say you’ll thank me later,’ Merlin snapped and dragged him out, the warmth pumping in his veins again. He managed to get him out of the room but Arthur forced himself free.

 ‘Merlin!’ he growled and shoved him. An arm on his chest pinned Merlin against the wall. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

 ‘Trying to keep you from being such a royal prat,’ Merlin said wrapping his hand around Arthur’s wrist, willing the warmth that gave him fleeting reassurance to do the same now for Arthur. ‘We are both sleep deprived and fed up. We’ll keep him in a cell for the day, but you’ll get nothing out of Cenred in the state you’re in. This isn’t you.’

 Arthur’s taught features softened.

 ‘Arthur,’ Leon interrupted. He pulled away from Merlin, eyes dropping down to his feet before returning to stare at Merlin. There was a hardness in them still, but they weren’t wild like before. ‘It’s DCS Pendragon.’

 Arthur swore under his breath and left to answer the call from his desk. Morgana had been observing the scene but when Merlin saw her she returned to reading some papers with Percy. 

 Leon didn’t move away. ‘You two okay?

 ‘Yeah,’ Merlin said breathlessly. ‘Lock Cenred up, will you?’

 ‘Yes, sir,’ Leon said with a solemn grin. He took out his mobile and rang up a guard to come ensure Cenred didn’t try anything. Once he’d organised it, Arthur was trudging back.

 ‘I can’t . . .’ he began, irritation cutting off anymore words.

 ‘What is it?’ Merlin asked.

 ‘The Met’s Annual Conference,’ Arthur told him, spitting out each word.

 ‘He didn’t,’ Leon said sympathetically.

 ‘He didn’t what?’ Merlin asked, floundering with confusion.

 ‘Oh, he did,’ Arthur said, rolling his shoulders and letting out a long sigh. ‘In the middle of a murder investigation and he thinks it’s acceptable to . . .’

 When he didn’t continue, Leon picked up the conversation and explained, ‘Every year around christmas the Met hosts a conference. Awards, music, it’s basically a glorified party.’

 ‘Christmas,’ Merlin murmured to himself, a sharp pang of surprise at how he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten.

 Leon turned back to Arthur who was still battling with his emotions. ‘Can’t you refuse?’

 ‘You know my father,’ he said with defeat. ‘Morgana, how’s Mordred?’

 She elegantly made her way to them, leaving Percy with the papers. ‘He’ll be just fine, but will probably be on leave for the next week or two.’

 ‘Understandably,’ Leon remarked. ‘I’ll go put him in the dungeon then.’

 Merlin’s lips twitched and after Leon left he asked, ‘When’s the conference?’

 ‘Next Friday,’ Arthur replied, slowly calming down.

 ‘That’s six days from now,’ he realised.

 ‘Brilliant, Merlin! With deductions skills like that I can’t believe Her Majesty’s Intelligence Service hasn’t snatched you up yet.’

 Merlin stared at Arthur perplexed. ‘Really?’

 ‘Yep, it really is quite impressive.’

 ‘Thanks, I mean- You’re joking,’ Merlin said and the pride was squelched.

 ‘You’re such a dolt,’ Arthur huffed and strode off. He couldn’t help but let a tiny smile spread. Arthur was explosive and irritable but still just as high and mighty as he’d always been. For the few days Merlin had known him, that is. Morgana caught his eye. Whispering into a phone and turned away from everyone. He went over to her, the suspicion and unnerving sensation beating with a heart of its own.

 ‘I’ll call you back,’ she finished quickly and hung up. ‘I’m sorry about Mordred.’

 ‘It wasn’t you who killed that man,’ Merlin said, the irony in his words stinging. ‘I wanted to ask you about a jacket.’

 She sat on the edge of her desk and folded over a leg. ‘Jacket?’

 ‘In the picture on Arthur’s desk. You’re wearing a red one. Just wondering what brand.’

 ‘Merlin, I could never have guessed,’ she said softly and with mocking surprise. ‘You’re a cross dresser?’

 He gritted his teeth and gave a tight chuckle. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind accommodating my interests?’

 ‘Shotgun. It’s a Pritch London design. I wear only the best. I don’t think they have your size, though,’ Morgana answered, her cruel lips curling slightly. Merlin left all doubt behind. Looking at her with the facts and his instincts he knew it was her. Morgause hadn’t killed Charlotte. Morgana had. 

 He leaned in toward her. ‘If you’re a part of this somehow, I will find out. I will stop you.’

 ‘What are you talk about?’ she asked with an amused chuckle. ‘You and Arthur should both get some rest.’

 ‘I’m not kidding, Morgana,’ he hissed, low enough that only she could hear him.

 ‘I don’t scare that easily,’ she taunted, her charming look snapping into a hostile one. ‘Take care of yourself, Merlin.’

 Leaping to her feet she walked away, every movement deadly and predatory. Merlin’s spine was rigid and jaw clenched. When he gave another look at the receipt the clinging worry and suspicion returned. Morgana was the enemy. Was Mordred one too? The thought left him feeling sick.

 

 

 Two days since he’d seen Mordred. Two days since he’d confirmed his fears about Morgana. Two days since Arthur had changed. Lying on the sofa, feet hanging off the edge, Merlin stared at his phone. Thumb circling the call button he recalled Mordred’s distraught state. Heart steeled from an impossibly amount of empathy and anxiety he set his mind on pressing it. There was a knock at his door.

 Pulling it open he revealed, inch by inch, the lean stature of the charming Irish-man. ‘Gwaine?’

 ‘Sorry to just show up like this,’ he began, a strange gravity in his expression, as he waltzed pass Merlin and into the living room. ‘In this whole mess I’ve found I trust you. Probably a bad move on my part but you’re cute so I’ll go along with it.’

 ‘What do you mean?’ Merlin asked, closing the door and facing him with crossed arms.

 ‘We’re being targeted,’ Gwaine said flatly. ‘Trust me. It’s genuinely as dramatic as it sounds.’

 ‘Come again?’

 ‘That day I couldn’t watch the tapes? Percy’s brother was being stalked,’ he explained, twisting a leather bracelet on his left wrist.

 ‘Percy has a brother,’ Merlin noted, but the one odd fact left much to be desired. ‘Wait, what?’

 ‘It gets worse. We went to help. Did you know he lives in Surrey of all places? The thing is . . . Yesterday? He got hospitalised; left in the middle of a street with the weapon right next to him.’

 Merlin felt his heart thump. ‘Christ.’

 ‘A stone. With a spiral painted on it,’ Gwaine added, waiting for Merlin’s response.

 ‘Old Religion,’ he surmised darkly. ‘A threat?’

 ‘Best guess.’

 ‘This is . . .’

 ‘The bigger issue is how they found him in the first place.’

 ‘You’re going to have to explain.’

 ‘Percy’s brother was put into witness protection over five years ago.’

 ‘If they found him they must know Percy,’ Merlin guessed, but Gwaine shook his head.

 ‘Actually, no. We were contacted with his current identity because someone though we’d be the best to handle the situation.’

 ‘So, who knew?’

 ‘The higher ups.’

 ‘Are you saying they’re in the government? That’s a bit far fetched,’ he scoffed. The disbelief he felt was only challenged by the growing well of fear. 

 ‘I’m saying they managed to get a hold of such highly guarded information without setting off any alarms. We’ve underestimated them.’

 ‘Not good.’

 ‘Such a way with words, Merlin,’ he remarked and there was a small inkling of a smile pushing at his lips. 

 ‘What do we do?’ he asked, lost in the unsettling news. ‘Does Arthur know?’

 ‘He’s got enough on his plate-’

 ‘Gwaine, he needs to know,’ Merlin asserted.

 ‘You’ll have to tell him. His battery’s been running low and I don’t want to be the one who pushes him over the edge.’

 ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What do we do, though?’

 ‘Stop Old Religion. Only now we have even more incentive and we’ll need to protect anyone close to us,’

 ‘Do you have anyone-’

 ‘No. Yourself?’

 ‘My mother. She’s miles away from London though.’ 

 ‘I’d give her a call. Warn her.’

 ‘I don’t want to scare her,’ he said quietly, in his mind her soft face bloomed and he refused to tarnish that goodness. He wouldn’t risk losing one of the kindest people he knew. He couldn’t. 

 ‘Rather you than someone knocking at the door and torturing her. Who knows what they’ve got planned.’ Gwaine reasoned grimly. 

 ‘Right,’ he murmured. ‘Have you told the others?’

 ‘Discreetly, yes. Just not Arthur.’

 ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ Merlin said after a pause of contemplation. 

 ‘British to the bone, eh?’ Gwaine joked and sank down onto the sofa. His normally lively atmosphere had dampened severely. 

 They discussed ideas of how to handle the new situation, and then about what motives Old Religion could have. Throughout it Merlin couldn’t rid himself of one question. It scratched at him until he, after conversation had taken a short break, presented it to Gwaine: ‘How much do you know about Morgana?’

 ‘She’s Arthur’s sister. Hot. Scary. Good at her job,’ he listed without hesitation. ‘Why?’

 ‘Promise you’ll take me seriously?’

 ‘Cross my heart,’ Gwaine said and motioned with a finger over his chest.

 ‘She might be involved with the Old Religion,’ he said and paused with worry as to Gwaine’s reaction. The man looked open an understanding, so he babbled on: ‘The fabric I found at Regis House is a match for one of her jackets. I also get these gut feelings. From the second I met her I’ve felt nothing but bad things. Talking to her about it was short lived and I’m pretty sure she threatened me.’

 ‘How long have you thought this?’

 ‘Two days, maybe.’

 ‘And she threatened you?’

 ‘I think so.’

 ‘Life certainly has gotten more interesting since you showed up,’ Gwaine said with a twisted chuckle. ‘I expect you’ll be needing my help?’

 ‘I just needed someone else to know. Another opinion. You don’t need to help me, even if you did I’m not sure what I could even need help with-’

 ‘Think of it as a favour, then,’ Gwaine cut him off, giving him a warm and disarming grin. ‘I’ll look into her.’

 ‘Do you think she could be as well? Involved with Old Religion?’

 Gwaine’s brows pushed together in thought. ‘You said you had evidence. That’s all I need.’

 ‘I’m going to talk to her again,’ Merlin concluded.

 ‘Are you sure that’s the best idea?’

 ‘Maybe there’s something behind all this. An explanation. Something. Do you have her number?’

 ‘You want the number of a woman you think’s involved in murder and a serial killer group?’

 ‘Yes.’

 ‘You’re crazy,’ Gwaine said.

 Merlin smiled sombrely. ‘Probably.’


	10. Perfect Prey

Her voice had slithered into his ear and even the next day its ghost sent shivers through his body. Merlin silently trod along the sterile corridor towards Gaius’ lab, trying to ignore the feeling. It was still early, so the place was mostly quiet and he hoped the old man would be asleep at home. Turning the corner the glass doors to the lab shone with welcome and Merlin quietly ran Gaius’ key card through the slot on the wall. The red light flashed green and the doors hissed open.

 Slipping into the lab he passed machines for gas chromatography, mass spectrometers, microscopes and digital displays. At the side was a safe which held the current case’s evidence. Kneeling down he turned in the combination, the tumblers disengaging and letting him open the heavy metal door.

 Inside the small confinement were boxes sectioning off the evidence. Dipping his hand into one he rummaged until his fingers tingled. Grabbing what they had touched he stared at the rusty red leather scrap through its plastic bag. He folded it carefully and tucked it into his jacket pocket, locking the safe again. 

 ‘How about we have lunch? Friday?’

 ‘That sounds great.’

 ‘I look forward to seeing you then, Merlin.’

 Taking the evidence was a precaution. Morgana was dangerous and unpredictable; Merlin couldn’t risk leaving it where she could find it. 

 ‘Merlin. What are you doing here?’ Gaius’ voice shattered the secrecy Merlin had strived to preserve. Hiding how he’d jumped by standing up in a dramatic manner he plastered on a deeply thoughtful expression. 

 ‘Looking for you,’ he lied, putting hands on his hips. ‘Have you made any progress in discovering what’s killing these people?’

 ‘Sadly not. If I believed in such things I’d say it’s magic.’

 ‘Seriously?’

 ‘It’s not magic, obviously, but it still remains a mystery and the best in their fields can’t work it out either,’ Gaius said tiredly.

 ‘Is there any hope, then?’

 ‘There’s always hope, Merlin. Always,’ he said sternly, before a more light hearted expression rippled across his face. ‘Is that all you wanted to ask?’

 ‘Yeah, sorry to bother you,’ Merlin replied and made for the door.

 ‘Not at all, my dear boy,’ Gaius said, preparing some test tubes. He paused and looked up to Merlin. ‘Oh, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my key card?’

 ‘No,’ Merlin drawled. ‘You’ve lost it?’

 ‘I have, yes. Luckily they let me in without it, but it really is such a hassle,’ he complained while keeping his sight fixated on Merlin.

 ‘I’m sure it is,’ Merlin said and forced a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll see you later.’

 ‘That you will.’

 Merlin scurried to the exit and left into the corridor. He’d gotten the card from Gaius’ coat once Gwaine had left, and now he held it with guilt. He pulled the plastic coated card from his pocket and dropped it. Then he picked it up again and left it on the floor closer to the wall of the corridor. It was a ridiculous way to be rid of it, but he didn’t need the extra worry. Letting out a long breath he left to put the fabric somewhere safe.

 

 

 

 He saw the dark, long, curls and swallowed down any and all trepidation. Merlin entered the cafe and took his seat at the table opposite Morgana. At the back of the cafe, she’d ensured privacy and no prying eyes. She welcomed him with a dazzling grin and a hello. He returned the niceties. A waiter took their orders and then the sounds of cutlery and chatter swelled above everything else.

 ‘What is it you want to talk about, Merlin?’ she inquired, tilting her head to the side.

 ‘The jacket,’ he answered, keeping his eyes set on hers.

 ‘Not that again,’ she said with a sigh and rolling her eyes.

 ‘There’s evidence placing that jacket at the first crime scene,’ he elaborated, keeping his back straight and hands folded together in his lap.

 ‘Is there now?’ she pressed, eyes flashing with new interest. They fell momentarily silent while the waiter returned with their food. When he’d left, Morgana poked at her salad. Merlin didn’t touch his sandwich. ‘Are you guarding it?’

 ‘Yes,’ he said.

 She let out another exasperated sigh and took a tomato into her mouth. After swallowing it she watched Merlin unreservedly. ‘What good will come of you accusing me for that poor girl’s death?’

 He didn’t even take a breath before he replied, ‘Justice.’

 ‘No one will believe you. Surely you know that. Not even Arthur,’ she said, the gentle tone in her voice bordering on concern for him. ‘Accuse me, and he’ll turn his back on you. Gwen will do the same. Everyone will. Even Mordred.’

 ‘You’re wrong,’ he said, fists clenching under the table.

 ‘Believe what you want, Merlin. A new age is dawning and only the fittest will rule. People like you, people like Uther, Arthur, you’ll all be irrelevant,’ she said, taking another carefully selected bite of her salad. Sipping some water she savoured the moment, eyes closed. Flicking her lids open she smiled lightly. ‘Disposed of.’

 Merlin’s hands relaxed and he stared at with horror. ‘Are you hearing yourself? You sound insane.’

 ‘To you,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t get in my way, Merlin. Drop any brave ideas you might have.’

 ‘Never.’

 ‘Have it your way,’ Morgana said softly. Leaning across the table she pulled his plate to the side.

 ‘What are you doing?’

 ‘Letting you be brave,’ she sneered. ‘Look at me.’

 Circles of fire roared into life in her eyes. The ice melted away and Merlin felt it stabbing into his mind. The cafe was being blotched out by a darkness which spread like disease.

 ‘What are you-’

 ‘Be. Brave,’ she mocked while his consciousness was whipped out from under his feet. The last things he knew was the pain of his head hitting the table and Morgana’s burning eyes.

 

 

 ‘Merlin!’

 ‘Pour some water on him.’

 ‘You don’t think that’s a bit disrespectful?’

 ‘He’s the idiot who had lunch with an evil witch of a woman.’

 ‘Gaius.’

 ‘Don’t pretend you don’t think the same.’

 ‘I can hear you,’ Merlin mumbled and groggily lifted his head to see K and Gaius. ‘Where’s Morgana?’

 ‘Gone. I got Kilgharrah here and we may have followed you. You’re really quite a terrible actor, you know,’ Gaius said, giving him a dubious look over. ‘What did she do to you?’

 ‘I have no idea,’ he said, rubbing his forehead disdainfully.

 ‘You need to stop her, Merlin. No matter the cost. You need to stop Morgana,’ K ordered, his ancient appearance looking out of place in the modern cafe.

 Arthur. Uther. Disposed of.

 His heart began to beat heavily in his chest. A sickening realisation set in and Merlin took a gulp of water. Slamming the glass back down onto the table he jumped to his feet and barged past them and out into the street, marching to the hotel the Met’s conference was taking place in. Where Arthur would be helping with preparation. The perfect prey.

 Running through the lobby and into the maze of hallways he checked every room for Arthur. Uther and Morgana as well, but if he found Arthur first he’d be able to relax. Dashing past another corridor he quickly reversed his steps and saw Morgana’s fine silhouette heading to the door at the end.

 ‘You drugged me!’ he exclaimed, walking towards her.

 ‘I did a lot more than that. No hard feelings I hope,’ she said, facing him with irritation.

 ‘Please, Morgana. Stop whatever this is. You’re not a killer.’

 ‘That’s exactly what I am! I’m proud to admit it. Rather a killer than a monster.’

 ‘They’re the same thing, aren’t they?’

 ‘Not in my world. Uther was a monster. Arthur . . . I thought he was different. Seeing how he treated Cenred changed all that.’

 Merlin paused. ‘Uther was a monster?’

 ‘Leave, Merlin,’ she warned him and carried on towards the door.

 ‘Where are you going?’

 ‘To stop Arthur from becoming a monster,’ she said, her voice low and on the verge of a growl.

 ‘No,’ he whispered when it became clear what she was going to do. ‘Morgana, stop this, please. Don’t do this!’

 Merlin ran at her. From her belt she pulled out a handgun and pressed the tip of the cold barrel against his forehead. Right between his eyebrows. The heat flared to life in his body and he snatched her arm out of the way, twisting it behind her. The gun dropped into his hand and he aimed it at her.

 ‘Shoot me or let me go,’ she told him, starting to turn and continue on to Arthur. A memory he didn’t know barged into him, freezing and filled with the anguish of loss. The sense of danger and panic overwhelmed him.

 ‘Shit,’ he hissed and after what seemed like a long breath he pulled the trigger. It was silent apart from her yelp and gasp of surprise. Leaning down she clutched at her calf where blood was beginning to pool and trickle out. ‘Sorry.’

 He stepped forward and swung the butt of the gun up. It knocked her out. Her thin frame fell to the floor, leg bleeding and a gash on her temple.

 ‘Drop your weapon!’ a voice barked at him. He jumped with shock but before he could turn a large body tackled him to the ground. The gun went flying from his hand while a heavily built man yanked his arms back. The click of handcuffs around his wrists and Merlin’s stomach wrenched violently with dread.

 ‘You’re under arrest for the murder of Uther Pendragon and assault of Morgana Pendragon,’ the man said and pulled him roughly up to his feet.

 Merlin could barely breathe. ‘What?’

 An entire team of police officers swarmed around him, one checking on Morgana, another reading him his rights. At the end of the hallway the door opened and Arthur emerged. His eyes grew impossibly wide as he took in the scene. Then he saw Merlin. In handcuffs. Being hauled away by police.

 ‘Arthur,’ Merlin choked out, dizzy with the madness of what was happening. 

 ‘What’s going on?’ Arthur demanded, eyes still cold and now filled with a fury of a different kind. A kind Merlin hoped wasn’t aimed at him.

 

 

 ‘State your full name and address,’ the police officer questioned. Merlin wriggled uncomfortably in the chair, never having experienced the other side of police work. The officer was young, like him, and her black hair was cut short. Her lips were tight and posture rigid. He remembered why he was there and realised why she seemed so on edge. They thought he was a murderer.

 ‘Merlin Owain Emrys. Gibson Road - Look, the details are on the Met’s database,’ he said, receiving a glower but she did seem to fetch up the information after she tapped at the keyboard and moved onto the next question.

 ‘Date of birth?’

 ‘Twenty third of May, nineteen ninety one,’ he recited, and thus the onslaught of questions continued. They searched him, took his finger prints and picture, although he was sure the Met would have had a record of the latter two already as well. Over an hour later and he found himself sat on a thin mattress in a tiny cell, shoeless, beltless, and waiting to have his one phone call. 

 Groaning he fell back down onto the mattress, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands. Uther was dead. Morgana had killed him. He’d shot Morgana. They thought he’d killed Uther. He wanted to blame himself for the ridiculous situation he was stuck in, but if he hadn’t done what he had, would Arthur be alive? Would Arthur have had the chance to look at him with such a terrible culmination of confusion and scorn? Groaning again he rolled over onto his side and curled up into a frustrated ball. The stress of everything had successfully drained him of any momentary volition so Merlin laid there in silence. He contemplated how he was going to stop a psychotic and psychopathic terrorist organisation from destroying both his own life and those of others. To think, he was only two weeks into the job.

 

 

 ‘Do you want breakfast?’ an officer barked at him on the other side of the door.

 ‘No,’ he yelled back. He knew how poor and grisly that meal would be and he wouldn’t chance it the way his stomach felt. He’d called K of all people. He said he was going to sort it all out. He hated not being able to do anything. To be trapped and accused of a crime he didn’t commit. Even attacking Morgana made sense if you realised that she was about to put a bullet in Arthur’s head.

 ‘Merlin Emrys, you have a visitor,’ someone alerted him and he heard the door unlock. Standing on the other side was Gwen, eyebrows pinched together with worry. ‘Stand up.’

 He got to his feet and turned around, the officer putting on the handcuffs. Then he was led, and slightly pushed, into an interview room. Opposite his seat was Gwen’s. She was in uniform.

 ‘Merlin,’ she greeted.

 ‘Gwen,’ he reciprocated and sank down, the chain of the handcuffs jangling and clinking down onto the metal table. The door shut and they sat in silence, Gwen staring at him for a minute. 

 Her formal and controlled form fell away and she said with brutal honesty and confusion, ‘What the hell is going on? They say you killed Uther.’

 ‘I didn’t,’ he said immediately.

 ‘And Morgana?’

 ‘That part’s true,’ he answered, quieter than before. Not out of shame or guilt. Quieter because he couldn’t deny it and he didn’t want to estrange Gwen who seemed alarmed at his state and at the news. 

 ‘Why?’

 ‘She was going to kill Arthur.’ 

 ‘What?’

 ‘Do you believe me?’ he asked her, begging and willing with his eyes that she did. She had to.

 She didn’t say anything, looking down at the table and dropping her hands into her lap. 

 ‘It’s alright if you don’t, Gwen,’ Merlin said quietly, noticing her discomfort.

 ‘I do,’ she concluded after a minute’s contemplation. ‘I’m not sure, but Gaius was talking about evidence that proves you didn’t do it. Merlin, Arthur . . . he thinks you did it. He’s been spending a lot of time with Morgana at the hospital and who knows what she’s been telling him.’

 ‘Why do you believe me?’ he pressed

 ‘I’ve read your file,’ Gwen admitted sheepishly.

 ‘You’ve what?’

 ‘Also the psychological report,’ she added. ‘You’re not a liar. Not with this sort of thing anyway.’

 ‘There’s a psychological report?’ Merlin said in surprise. 

 Gwen nodded. ‘On all of us. Kilgharrah issued them a few months ago. Looks like he knew you were going to join our team for a while.’

 ‘No wonder he was acting so weirdly when we met,’ he mulled, leaning back against the chair as a new puzzle piece revealed itself. 

 ‘I’ll do my best to convince Arthur,’ she assured him. ‘But he’s been erratic lately. I don’t think this case is good for him.’

 ‘It’s exactly what he needs. He’s the warrior type, Gwen. In comparison to Old Religion, your past cases have been a little tame,’ Merlin said with sharp honesty.

 ‘Merlin,’ Gwen gasped.

 ‘Arthur wasn’t meant for peace,’ he elaborated, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the grey metal. ‘He’s supposed to fight against the worst things imaginable and win.’

 ‘Did they beat you?’ she asked, brows drawn up and together in worry. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

 ‘I-I don’t know,’ he said and slouched slightly. ‘Sorry. Just . . . Keep away from Morgana, Gwen. Gwaine told you about the situation, right?’

 ‘Yes. It’s mildly terrifying,’ she remarked softly. He saw the affliction carved into her face but it flashed when she looked at him as well. It hadn’t died away, still as strong as it had no doubt been when she and Gwaine had spoken.

 ‘Is, isn’t it?’ Merlin murmured. ‘How did you get in here to speak with me?’

 ‘I’m supposed to be questioning you,’ she replied with new vigour, glad for the topic change. ‘Why you did it, all of that.’

 ‘Who sent you?’

 ‘Uther’s temporary replacement. At least I hope he’s temporary,’ Gwen said, her index finer tracing patterns on the table.

 He frowned. ‘Wouldn’t that be Kilgharrah?’

 ‘It’s the new DCS Agravaine.’

 ‘Agravaine?’ he repeated, the name new to his tongue but decidedly unpleasant.

 ‘He’s ruthless,’ she said with disdain, ‘but he’s the best option they have on such short notice with Kilgharrah refusing the position.’

 ‘Great.’

 ‘I’m so sorry this has happened to you. Being blamed for what she did.’

 ‘It’s okay. The charges won’t stick. The truth will out, right?’

 She stretched her hand to him and grasped his hand reassuringly. He forced up a poor excuse for a smile.

 ‘Oh, if you get out in time we’re having a New Year’s Celebration at Gwaine’s,’ she recalled.

 ‘Wow, do you guys ever solely work on a case?’

 ‘Work hard, play hard,’ she said with a shy grin.

 ‘They can’t keep me over Christmas can they?’ He couldn’t help but wince inwardly. He worked for the bloody Met Police and had asked such a ridiculous question? Whatever Morgana had done, he could swear it was still affecting him. Inside him.

 ‘They’ve done it before. If they have reasonable cause,’ she answered kindly, overlooking his clear embarrassment. 

 ‘Right. Well, if I’m out in time, it sounds like fun,’ he told her as he rose, the chair scraping against the ground.

 Gwen got up and headed to the door, knocking for a guard to open. ‘See you later, then? Don’t let anyone interview without getting a solicitor, please?’

 ‘I know. Bye,’ he muttered, left alone in the dim room when Gwen slipped out.  

 


	11. It Gets So Much Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's attempted non-con in this chapter, but if that's not your scene don't worry as it doesn't come to fruition (plus it comes in hand with something else you can focus on, which is all I can really say without spoilers)

Six days later and he heard the lock to his cell unlatch.

 ‘You’re free to go, Emrys,’ the guard grumbled. Tentatively Merlin stood and rolled his shoulders, stiff from having to sleep on the less than comfortable bed for the past few nights.

 ‘What’s changed?’

 ‘Didn’t they tell you?’

 ‘Tell me what?’

 ‘DCS Agravaine spoke to the judge personally. Vouched for you alongside Kilgharrah and that old scientist,’ the guard said with admiration.

 ‘Oh. So, they don’t know who actually did it? Killed Uther?’

 ‘Not yet. Now can you get out? I have better things to be doing than chatting with you,’ he said sharply.

 ‘Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,’ Merlin remarked giving the guard a good long look of derision before walking out and heading to collect his things. 

 Merlin took his first steps in fresh air in too long. Stretching up he let the wind ruffle his hair before zipping up his jacket and heading to his flat. While he sat on the tube train he checked his mobile. Gwaine had sent several texts, telling how he didn’t believe anything they were saying and how the case was going. Gwen had sent him some too, that very same morning in fact. 

 Morgana’s in hospital but she’s dropped any charges against you. Everyone thinks you only attacked her cause you thought she was the killer. It’ll all be fine, Merlin.

 A few of the others had sent him messages, including the landlord and he cringed. Needed to sort that out when he got back. There was a cold feeling in his chest though. Aside from worry about press and more substantial fear about Morgana, he hadn’t heard from Arthur. At all. Not since he’d been dragged away in cuffs. 

 Running up the stairs of his building he mulled over his situation. Having nothing to do he was left with his mind and Merlin had made a few plans. Number one on the agenda was expose Morgana. Second to that help her, if he could. Third, figure out Arthur. Fourth, Mordred. That in itself left his limbs feeling light with anxiety. Entwining with everything was stopping Old Religion, but that was easier said than done. 

 Pulling out his key, relishing the familiar and secure way it felt to be in his hand again, he slotted it into the lock and opened his flat’s door. Inside stood Mordred, wearing his normal dark skinny jeans and an equally dark t-shirt.

 ‘Merry Christmas,’ the man said, a gentle smile tugging at his mouth. Then it hit Merlin again. Christmas.

 ‘Is that today?’

 Mordred scoffed, the grin breaking out ‘Yeah. It is.’

 ‘Time flies. Are you okay?’

 ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m great. As great as I can be, anyway. Yourself?’

 ‘Don’t know yet,’ Merlin said softly, taking off his shoes. Looking up at Mordred he could almost taste the frothy foam of the crashing waves. The storm seemed more violent, and yet more vibrant and alluring. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

 ‘I’ve missed you.’

 That was all it took. Merlin pressed his lips against Mordred’s, letting that strange darkness trickle into him bit by bit. The aggressive clash and battle of emotions and sensations inside him were a perfect distraction from Arthur’s cold eyes and the murder and blood and death. Not ideal, he had to admit it, but it worked just as well as anything else. So, Merlin kissed Mordred with all he had and no sooner had he let out a moan they were clawing off their clothes heading to his bedroom.

 Mordred gently pushed him down onto the fluffy duvet and welcoming mattress, lips now leaving Merlin’s mouth in favour of his jaw line, then neck, then collar bone. Each touch made the warmth inside him coil with a terror drowned out by ecstasy. Mordred only halted his onslaught midway down Merlin’s chest to look up with a glint in his eye.

 ‘What is your gut feeling telling you right now?’ he asked.

 ‘Um, I - I don’t know,’ Merlin stammered, head foggy with lust. He concentrated, but there was nothing. If anything the lack of anything left him slightly disconcerted. ‘Nothing.’

 ‘Good,’ Mordred whispered and returned his attention to Merlin’s pale skin.

 ‘Why?’ Merlin managed to question, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Mordred who was now leaving a trail of kissed leading down to his jeans.

 ‘Just wondering,’ Mordred muttered, and his eyes met Merlin’s. He could see the storm. Now it flashed with a threatening lightning and the waves were in turmoil, not thrashing with their normal emotions and strength. The waters were infected, dirty, diseased. His gut said nothing. The warmth, however, was coiling and writhing in disagreement. Undoing the first button of his trousers Mordred left back to Merlin’s mouth and they both shuffled onto the bed, lips locked and touching the entire time. Merlin tried to ignore the concern that kept poking him, but it was getting painful.

 ‘Mordred,’ he breathed, the other man laying on top of him, hands running along his bare skin wherever they could.

 ‘Hm?’

 ‘I think we should-’

 He was cut off by Mordred’s mouth smothering his own, his hips grinding down on Merlin’s. It sent sparks of arousal through him but the warmth was getting strangely cold in his chest and he decided to push against Mordred. It wouldn’t be enjoyable with the growing iciness.

 ‘Stop,’ Merlin said into the kiss, the start of panic hooked on each sound he made. The warmth was leaving his limbs, no longer complaining about his actions. The unresponsiveness made his stomach twist. Mordred chose to ignore him and plunged his tongue deeper into Merlin’s mouth. Invading. His hands, which had been so lovingly adoring every part of Merlin, now locked around his wrists and pushed them down above his head, fingers digging into his skin. The knife of fear suddenly sliced into him, through every vein it could reach and his heart thudded.

 Mordred noticed his sounds of struggle, how Merlin was twisting against Mordred’s hands and the weight of his body. His struggling became more desperate and that’s when he felt the pain branch out from his nose, head whipped to the side with the force of the punch. ‘Shhh.’

 Merlin stifled out a few syllables, ‘What are-’

 It felt like a hand reaching into his throat and tearing out any voice he had. No more words made it out. He tried but failed to scream, to shout anything. Mordred was sniggering, straddling his hips. Clearly he saw the look of absolute horror on Merlin’s face because he swallowed his laughter, but the sick smile remained.

 ‘Sorry. For laughing, I mean. That was kinda rude,’ he explained and Merlin wanted to run, to fight back, but his limbs were dead around him. Frozen. ‘Oh, I forgot you can’t respond. This is the first time I’ve done this. Don’t worry, Mer. You won’t be like the others. They just killed them. Cold hearted, don’t you think? No, you’ll be different. I’ll have you, in every sense of the term. You’ll be mine for just a little while and I’ll be yours too, of course. Then, I’ll kill you. What you feel now is just the start. It gets so much better.’

 Merlin’s chest was tight and he couldn’t breathe, eyes welling up with tears. Mordred leaned down close again, his breath burning his skin and mouth attacking his. His teeth bit and bruised Merlin’s lips while he pulled off his trousers. Mordred’s scent surrounded him and violated his nose, leaving every sense consumed by the deadly and drowning waters he’d once found solace in. A dull ache took up residence in his chest and the hot tears spilled out of his eyes, running down to his ears, their paths cooling with the air. The blood oozed from his nose.

 Mordred’s tongue, lips, and hands pressed against his shivering body. The touches were rough, but then there was a gentleness in the lips. It made it worse. To feel that care which couldn’t be real. 

 Merlin thought about looking away. Shutting his eyes and trying to pretend he wasn’t there. He couldn’t do it. It was happening. To him. It was Mordred. Old Religion. In his bedroom, in his bed, having just kissed him and loved him. Now this. A new pain lanced in his throat, joined by piercing explosions in his mind.

 

 

 Arthur stared at the open door, mildly confused. He was holding a box covered up in some ridiculous wrapping paper he’d found in a closet. He even had a card. When Gwen had told him that Merlin was out he didn’t waste a second getting the present and getting to Merlin’s flat. Their time together in his living room haunted practically everything he did and even if he did like Mordred, Arthur wasn’t going to let his own strange jealousy get in the way. Merlin was intriguing and handsome and the one thing with hope at the moment. The case left him feeling tired and scared. They pushed for answers but nothing had come of it and today someone’s life was hanging by the fine thread of fate. DCS Agravaine had ordered he take Christmas Day off, by means of a personal messenger, and aside from pursuing answers Gwen had pushed him to visit Merlin just once.

 Now he stood staring into Merlin’s flat. He knocked and waited for an answer but none came.

 ‘Merlin?’ he called and stepped inside. Everything he saw revealed something of Merlin to him. It felt intimate just being in his home, from the sporadically coloured tiles of the kitchen wall to the books and papers strewn on table and ground alike in the living room. ‘Anyone here?’

 There was a loud bang. Arthur felt his muscles tense in readiness for whatever it was and carefully put the present and card down next to the sofa. He headed to where the noise came from and in the corridor he saw a closed door. Walking to it he tried the handle. It didn’t budge. Pressing his ear flat against the wood he listened but couldn’t hear anything. 

 ‘Merlin?’ he tried one last time but the only reply was eerie silence. The suspicion crashed into him and he gritted his teeth, ramming the door with his shoulder. Several failed attempts and he stepped back. Looking at the white paint he could feel how wrong it was. The wrong locked inside with Merlin. Channelling all his strength he kicked the door and it gave way with splintering wood. 

 His mouth hung open with momentary shock. Mordred was tugging down Merlin’s trousers, which in itself strangled all shock and left irritation, fury and sorrow all colliding in its place. Then he saw how Merlin wasn’t moving. Not making a sound. He couldn’t even see his chest falling or rising. Blood staining his face. The glimmer of wet tears in his motionless eyes. In a manner of seconds he’d forced himself to take in the painful sight, but in the last moment he saw what left a raging hurricane in his mind and soul. The beginning’s of a bloody spiral on Merlin’s throat.

 He didn’t even register grabbing Mordred by the back of the neck, throwing him off of Merlin and onto the ground. The man was back to his feet and sending a fist in Arthur’s direction but he jabbed into Mordred’s chest and rammed his own balled hand up and into his jaw. Mordred stumbled backwards and Arthur didn’t waste time, sending him flying backwards with a kick into his bare chest.

 ‘Reverse it!’ he screamed at the monster but Mordred only chuckled, standing up and clutching his wounded rib.

 ‘Too late,’ was all Mordred said and then he ran. Arthur began to chase after him but stopped in the doorway to look back at Merlin. It wasn’t worth it. Falling onto the bed at Merlin’s side he shook his shoulders.

 ‘Merlin, are you with me? Merlin, snap out of it,’ Arthur pleaded, the cruel finger of irony twisting into his mind. The person’s who life now waited in the balance was Merlin’s. Of all people, why did it have to be him? He pressed his hand against Merlin’s cheek and his face contorted with horror at how cold he felt. Glancing at the spiral he saw how it was no longer growing, only a few of the curves having etched themselves into his skin. Pulling out his mobile he rang for an ambulance.

 Arthur silently dressed Merlin, feeling the searing fury in his heart when he had to lift his limp body to pull on the shirt. Grabbing a cloth from the kitchen and wetting it, he returned to clean the blood from his nose. Sickly pale and unresponsive, Arthur waited at his side for the paramedics.

 ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he whispered brokenly while he stared into Merlin’s clouded blue eyes. ‘You really have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met.’

 He took Merlin’s hand and held it in his own, wanting the man to take some of his heat. His fingers were lax and so Arthur tightened his own, wrapping them securely around Merlin’s palm. The sirens wailed softly in the distance, growing louder as they approached. The suffocating silence was finally shattered by the paramedics bursting into the flat. Arthur forced himself to let Merlin go and kept out of the way while the professionals did their job. They lifted Merlin onto a stretcher and positioned an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose after checking his pulse and breathing. Barely registering Arthur’s presence he felt himself slip into a trance. Up against the wall he looked at what was happening. It was unreal. Impossible.

 ‘Would you like to ride with him to the hospital?’ a medic asked while they carried Merlin out. Arthur nodded without hesitation. Outside people were watching them with curiosity, the sky was getting darker with heavy clouds. They hoisted Merlin into the back of the ambulance while Arthur climbed into the front seat. In one or two minutes the sirens were blaring again and the ambulance navigated the streets to the nearest hospital.


	12. The Storm's Heart

Arthur paced outside on the pavement. The glass and cement building of St Thomas’ Hospital loomed behind him. Once they’d arrived, Merlin had been whisked off by the medics and they’d told Arthur he couldn’t follow. After shouting and some unwarranted threats they’d warned him to calm down or he wouldn’t be allowed to visit. He stopped his complaints after that.

 Wandering around the hospital’s corridors had made him feel queasy with nerves and the various illnesses which pooled and drifted in patient rooms and wards. It had been overwhelming, especially knowing Merlin lay in a bed of his own. That his DC, his friend, rested amongst the diseased.

 The beginnings of thunder crackled and rumbled in the sky above though and unless he wanted to catch pneumonia he’d need to enter the building that housed those heavy thoughts. Standing still he closed his eyes and listened to the traffic of the road next to him, the wind rustling the leaves, the sirens, the people walking by. Felt it cut through his coat, lift the collar flaps and throw his hair into disarray. With a clap of thunder Mordred’s wry smile and Merlin’s dead eyes flashed in his mind.

 ‘Arthur, here you are,’ Gaius remarked and Arthur turned to face him, stuffing his now frozen hands into his coat’s pockets. The scientist seemed tired, stern and soft. Watery grey eyes were still sharp with intellect and, bundled up in a tweed coat with a matching scarf, he seemed especially defiant of the cold weather.  

 ‘Why are you here?’ Arthur inquired, voice roughened by the stranglehold his stress held around his throat.

 ‘Merlin’s situation has the entire scientific community buzzing, DS Pendragon. Even though you didn’t have the sense to alert me yourself,’ Gaius said with a touch of accusation.

 ‘I’m sorry. I - I just,’ he bumbled, brows pinching and eyes losing focus.

 ‘It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you come inside? Merlin’s awake,’ Gaius suggested, quirking an eyebrow.

 Relief flickered in his heart and he regained clarity. ‘So quickly?’

 ‘It’s been hours, Arthur,’ he said.

 ‘Hours?’

 Gaius regarded him with a furrowed brow. ‘Did anyone check to see if you were in shock?’

 ‘I’m not in shock,’ he defended.

 ‘Come with me, Arthur,’ Gaius said and started back to the hospital’s entrance.

 ‘You’re no doctor.’

 ‘Not of the medical type, no. That doesn’t mean I’m void of common sense, however. Now come along,’ Gaius said with authority and waited until Arthur joined him.

 Gaius led him to Merlin’s room then left, talking with a doctor. Some of their conversation reached him, for the most part theories about Merlin, Old Religion and everything else was lost to him when they turned a corner. Arthur looked through the door’s small window and inside he saw the light blue walls, dark linoleum floor, and the single hospital bed with the white sheets resting over thin legs. The agitation he’d been feeling reached its precipice and before he became caught in the fear he’d felt in Merlin’s flat, Arthur entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Shutting them in together. The window stretched across the whole width of the opposite wall, and through it was a perfect view of Parliament, Big Ben, the Thames. Although dull with the poor weather, it was still remarkable. Somewhat eerie with the lack of hustle and bustle it was accustomed to, but maintaining the breath of vitality hanging in its air. Christmas day and most people were at home, but here he was. Here Merlin was.

 Breathing in the sterile air, Arthur finally looked to the bed. Looked at the legs under the too thin sheets and, taking another steady breath, he glanced up to Merlin’s face.

 The DC didn’t say anything. He just watched Arthur stand awkwardly by the door. Monitors hooked up to Merlin beeped away rhythmically. Slowly stepping closer to the bed until he was next to it, Arthur rested his fingertips on Merlin’s pale hand. Tentatively, he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

 ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. Merlin turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Arthur’s. He wanted to know the touch of Merlin’s dark hair, the taste of salt on his skin, and in a confused moment, how it would feel for his lips to touch Merlin’s. He looked to fragile, so contrasting with his dark hair, light skin. All the lean muscle seemed to have been drained from him, leaving him hollow. Arthur’s eyes darted to where the spiral had begun and a small weight lifted when he saw it was gone. He wanted to wrap Merlin up in a blanket and hide him away from everything cruel. Another part of him tore that concept into shreds, yearning to run through the brutal world hand in hand with the man instead. Wished some of the vitality drifting about beyond the window's glass would carry them away to new heights and adventures.

 He could feel Merlin watching him. Disregarding the tubes constraining him the DC moved forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur, burying his face in Arthur’s neck. It took a second for the confusion to clear and Arthur slid his arms around Merlin in return. He didn’t feel anywhere warm enough. No one had given him more blankets.

 ‘I know you didn’t . . .’ Arthur trailed off, words catching in his throat. Merlin hadn’t murdered Uther and he’d let himself believe he had. Let himself feel the anger and betrayal. It had never been Merlin and a part of him knew it from when he saw the scared look in the man’s eyes when the officers had taken him away. Disgust at himself for letting his directionless anger point at someone so innocent beat away at his mind. ‘The funeral’s next week, can you believe it? Everything’s gone kind of downhill since the Old Religion case reopened.’

 ‘Coincidentally when I arrived,’ Merlin murmured his first words. They sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine. Hollow and colourless, panic rose at the tone his voice had adopted.

 ‘Merlin,’ Arthur began, pulling out of the hug but keeping his hands on his cold shoulders, thumbs gently stroking back and forth. ‘In all this hell, you’re the one thing . . . If it weren’t . . . Even though it’s been hell, I’d experience all of it if that meant getting to experience . . . Well, if it meant getting to experience you.’

 ‘No, you wouldn’t.’

 ‘You’d be surprised,’ Arthur said with a smile, lifting his hand and brushing it against Merlin’s cheek. It was icy against his own warmth, but there was life in Merlin’s rich eyes that remained fixed with his own. For a moment he wondered if he was feeling this protectiveness out of guilt. If it wasn't genuine, just his own selfishness aimed towards Merlin and his ordeal. Trying to make a hero of himself, for no one's benefit but his own. That strange gravity in the DC drew him away from the doubt though. Told him that it was all real, that greater things played a part in their connection. So, he stayed there and listened to the muffled noise of London roll into the room. Heard their shaking, excited breaths, imagined the wheels of trains sending shivers through the earth and the words warped and carried along in harsh winds. It was like an unfamiliar town, where he knew nothing and no one but Merlin. Eventually he realised what he was doing and let his hand drop. ‘How long do you have to rest?’

 ‘They’re discharging me in a few minutes,’ Merlin informed him, still disconcertingly unemotional.

 ‘Wait. They can’t,’ he said, scoffing with disbelief.

 Merlin frowned. ‘Why not?’

 ‘You look like you could fall apart any second. That and you’re freezing,’ Arthur admitted, giving him a neutral brush on the shoulder.

 ‘I am?’

 ‘You haven’t noticed?’

 ‘No,’ Merlin murmured and folded his legs under himself, now a few inches higher than Arthur. ‘I’m sorry about your father.’

 ‘Thanks. I should probably be more upset about it,’ he said, pressing his lips together into a thin, sombre smile.

 ‘You don’t have to be.’

 ‘Everyone expects me to be the doting son, to break down crying or whatever, but . . .’ he trailed off, caught in his memories. ‘Uther was never really there for me. Financially, sure, but apart from that he wasn’t a big part of my life. I’ve made my own way without his support but I could never really shake the name.’

 ‘Do you want me to go with you? To the funeral?’

 ‘God, Merlin. How can you be so,’ Arthur paused and gestured to him vaguely. ‘After what just happened?’

 ‘You’re distracting me,’ Merlin commented and then looked down, thinking to himself. When he looked back up a gentle smile cracked open his lips. ‘That and I generally feel safer next to the infamous Arthur Pendragon.’

 ‘Infamous?’ Arthur teased, watching the Merlin he knew and loved unravel once more.

 ‘Arrogant, pompous, self-centred, dollop headed Arthur,’ Merlin listed mockingly. ‘Better?’

 ‘Thanks for that,’ he said and ruffled the DC’s hair until he was batted away.

 ‘I do try,’ Merlin said but fell silent with contemplation, looking into his lap again. ‘I just don’t understand.’

 ‘Understand?’

 ‘Mordred,’ he said softly, still staring at his hands. He moved one to rest on Arthur’s. ‘It couldn’t have been him. With Old Religion. Trying to do . . .’

 ‘Hey,’ Arthur said quickly, clutching Merlin’s hand reassuringly. ‘Don’t relive it.’

 ‘I’m not. It’s just, it genuinely wasn’t him,’ he insisted.

 ‘Merlin, I saw him. It was Mordred,’ Arthur murmured, keeping a hold of his hand with new found concern.

 ‘No, you don’t,’ Merlin stopped, and Arthur could see the concentration on his face as he tried to work it out. ‘You don’t understand. The way he was acting, the things he was saying, none of it was right. Mordred was never that cruel.’

 ‘You haven’t known him for very long,’ Arthur said and instantly he could see the hurt flash in Merlin’s eyes. It was a stupid thing to say. Hadn’t the two of them spoken of how they felt after only a few days?

 ‘You’re one to talk,’ Merlin retorted, looking off to the side and out to the Thames. Seeing its murky waters shift lazily with the winter wind and roll to the sides of passing boats.

 ‘Fair enough,’ Arthur huffed. ‘I just think you should stay and rest for a while longer.’

 ‘No,’ Merlin said, facing him again with a hardened expression. ‘I need to stop them.’

 Arthur could hear the determination, but he knew that wasn’t enough. ‘You won’t single-handedly.’

 ‘I won’t. I’ve got you, haven’t I? We’ve also got a new lead,’ Merlin said and he felt his heart beat pick up. Did Merlin have him?

 ‘We do?’

 Arthur waited for the response but Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, oddly resistant. He squeezed his hand and Merlin returned it with an intense stare. ‘Morgana.’

 ‘Morgana? Because she was there when Uther was . . . you know?’

 ‘No,’ Merlin said, holding back the full explanation, but he’d already made a crack in the dam and the pressure built up steadily.

 ‘I don’t-’

 ‘I didn’t shoot her because I thought she was the killer,’ Merlin divulged, piquing Arthur’s interest, as the reservoir started to pour out. ‘Not exactly.’

 ‘Merlin, I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

 ‘Has Gwen spoken to you?’

 ‘No, she hasn’t,’ Arthur said and the thought plucked up a new stress in his mind. He removed his hand from Merlin’s and dug out his phone, checking the messages. ‘Actually I texted her earlier and she still hasn’t replied.’

 The ring tone started up and Arthur looked at the screen impressed. Gwen. He didn’t believe in coincidence, but it did settle his nerves.

 ‘Wait, Arthur, listen to me. Please. Morgana, and I know you won’t want to hear it, but-’

 Arthur knew that Gwen had been looking into Cenred for him. She had the day free, only in the evening having a family dinner. He was too occupied with curiosity to listen to him. ‘Hold on a second, Merlin, I’ve got to take this.’

 He got up, heading to the door and pressing the answer button.

 ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Arthur told him at the look of distress on Merlin’s worn face. Even in such a bad state Arthur couldn’t help but notice every fine detail and how it made Merlin that much more fascinating, wonderful. Shutting the door he shut out Merlin and put the phone to his ear, ‘What did you find, Gwen?’

 

 

 Merlin waited for him. Waited with anxiety tearing into his stomach and chest. If only he’d spoken faster, but he didn’t want to freak Arthur out. Didn’t want to lose his friendship, whatever their bond was, because he’d accused his sister of being a killer. Sitting in the hospital bed with the rainfall getting heavier and heavier, droplets hammering against the window pane, Merlin waited.

 The quiet left him no escape and the coldness still residing in his blood lashed out. He ran his hands through his hair, bowing his head down with eyes squeezed shut. Everything ached and he could still feel the ghost of Mordred’s fingers touching him. They’d disappeared when Arthur came. When Arthur held his hand. Arthur had been so warm.

 The minutes passed and Arthur still hadn’t come back when the doctor came in, handing him some forms to fill out.

 ‘I’d really prefer it if I could keep an eye on you,’ she said firmly, checking the tubing and monitors.

 ‘I’ve got something to do,’ Merlin muttered, scribbling down the information the forms asked for as fast as he could.

 ‘It’s miraculous,’ she remarked while taking them back from him.

 He looked up at her, her dark brown eyes studying him with intrigue. ‘What is?’

 ‘Whatever it was that happened to you in the first place is inexplicable. The way you recovered? Astonishing,’ she said. ‘I’ll get these off then. A nurse is bringing you some pills.’

 ‘Pills for what?’

 ‘Pain killers mostly.’

 ‘I don’t feel any pain,’ Merlin said.

 ‘Yes, well you’ve had morphine pumping through you for the past five hours,’ she said with a brilliant white smile.

 ‘Ah.’

 ‘Ah, indeed. Thankfully, DC Emrys, you’re a fit individual and should be fine. Given I’ve never come across anything like this, that’s just my best guess you understand. If anything does feel strange don’t hesitate to come back and either myself or another doctor can check you out, okay?’

 ‘Mhm,’ he hummed and then the nurse arrived, the paper bag of various tablets in hand.

 ‘Thank you,’ the doctor said to the nurse who promptly left. Passing the bag to Merlin she pointed to the bathroom and told him, ‘Your clothes are in there. They’ve been washed.’

 Merlin scooted until his legs fell over the edge of the bed. ‘Thanks.’

 ‘Take it easy, okay? Nothing too strenuous.’

 ‘Of course, thank you doctor,’ Merlin said and once she was satisfied he’d be alright she left too. When the door opened he couldn’t see Arthur. Biting his bottom lip he got up and tested his strength by taking a few steps. It felt secure. When he was confident in his movements he changed and caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked ghastly. All the life drained out of him. The heat was slowly returning in his chest and in his veins, but he wished it would come back sooner. It was burning up the cold reminder of what had happened.

 Merlin was close enough to his flat that, at a brisk pace, he made it there in several minutes. He’d been expecting police tape and officers, but it was quiet. Normal. As if nothing had happened. He couldn’t stop his heart from beating too heavily and too frequently as he approached his door. Steeling his resolve he opened the door and grabbed his oyster card from the side table, taking a hooded jumper on his way out. Getting out as fast as possible was his priority. The homely smell now mingled with unpleasant associations and touches and Merlin wouldn’t be able to stand in there for more than a few minutes.

 He pulled on the jumper, flicked up the hood, and tugged on his jacket over the top, heading to Scotland Yard. He was already relatively soaked through but at that point he didn’t care. The only thing that stopped him from shaking was the thought of finding Morgana.

 After talking his way past a few officers he got to where they were holding Cenred. Since he’d himself been locked up they’d arrested him with drug dealing charges. Merlin didn’t go to see the team. They didn’t need to be put at risk. So, he waited in one of the interrogation rooms and waited for a guard to fetch Cenred. No one watched behind the one-way glass, and all recording devices were off. Merlin had double checked.

 ‘Merlin,’ Cenred purred, being pushed into the room roughly.

 ‘Just put him down there,’ Merlin told the guard who did as instructed and shoved him down into a seat. ‘Lock the door on your way out. I’ll knock when I want it opened.’

 The guard nodded and when the lock clicked Merlin stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down at Cenred.

 ‘Where’s Morgana?’

 ‘If you’ve failed to notice, I’ve been detained,’ he spat with vehemence. ‘Although I must say it’s a delight to be graced by your gorgeous presence.’

 Merlin’s skin crawled. ‘Old Religion has a base of operations. I’m guessing she’s there. Where is it?’

 ‘My lips are sealed.’

 Something raw and stinging scraped through his nerves. ‘Tell me, or I’ll make you.’

 ‘Make me?’ Cenred let out a hearty laugh. ‘Is that a threat? I thought that guy you’re shagging was the macho brute of the couple.’

 The ice still stung in his body. ‘Last chance. Where is she?’

 ‘Sorry, was that a sore spot? Having issues? Does he top or do you?’

 The ice surged into his chest at the exact moment the heat flared with agitation. Merlin rammed his knee up and forced Cenred’s head down. The wet crack of breaking bone was followed by Cenred’s gasping breaths.

 ‘Well haven’t you changed?’ he said, lifting his head up to the ceiling in an attempt to slow down the bleeding.

 ‘Where is she?’ Merlin asked again, feeling the ice pick away his insides.

 ‘You think I’ll tell you?’

 ‘You don’t have a choice,’ he warned calmly. Staring into those black eyes Merlin couldn’t stop seeing the monster he’d seen in Mordred. The jeering smile, the malice, the loathing. Somewhere the warmth tried its best to calm him, to clear his thoughts, but the wintry blasts circulating inside won the battles each time and he felt the freezing ocean fill him to the brim.

 ‘Don’t I?’

 Cenred’s smirk broke the dam and Merlin let the viscous warmth leak into the dark waters. He felt the storm brewing and aimed it towards Cenred. He let it go. The gales ripped out into the room and an ungodly scream erupted, swallowed by the howling winds and thrashing waves.

 ‘Where is she!?’ Merlin demanded, eyes alight with the storm’s heart and its pulsing power.


	13. Bloody Christmas

He ran. Ran from the room where a hysterical Cenred bled and begged to where he would find justice. Becoming a part of the faceless mass of the London population, Merlin made his way to the office building he’d gotten the address for. It was near Regent’s Street and left an uneasy squirming in his chest. It meant they were confident being so public, meant they were wealthy, and a reasonably permanent feature. Old Religion had to involve powerful people to be in the centre of London above ground. To not be hidden from the public eye took a disconcerting amount of bravery or disquieting security.

 Marching along the wet pavement sent small droplets of water splashing out from beneath his leather shoes. The rain had relented but the sky was dense with shadows and clouds that pressed down on the buildings around him. As he approached their headquarters he felt a wave roll through him, electrifying but weighted too. Pausing to let the strange sensation pass he soon continued on, pushing the glass door open. The heat inside struck him like a wall and, although uncomfortable, Merlin soon adjusted and gained the receptionist’s attention. Instant recognition flashed in the man’s eyes.

 ‘You’re that policeman, the one that joined the serial spiral case,’ he remarked, returning the phone he’d been holding and offering Merlin a star struck smile.

 Stopping in front of the counter, he asked, ‘Serial spiral case?’

 ‘Old Religion, all that crazy stuff,’ the receptionist explained. The man’s greying bristles and recently dry-cleaned suit leaked aspects of his life which Merlin experienced like seeing a stranger in their home. Privy to momentary involvement in a different mind, different outlook and morals. Again the waters stirred with an electric jolt somewhere in his own mind, own body.

 ‘How do you-’

 ‘Media’s been all over it from the start. With all the new tech advances and stuff it’s gotten a lot bigger. Man, that’s got to be stressful stuff to deal with,’ the man rambled, leaning forward and giving him a look of apparent heartfelt sympathy. A faint whiff of tobacco reached Merlin, as did the scent of animals. Did the receptionist own dogs?

 ‘The media?’ Merlin pressed again, feeling utterly out of the loop. Ridiculous really, given it was the focus of his life right then.

 ‘You were on the news just last night actually. Mostly christmas stuff, weather, normal stuff, but the BBC gave you and that Pendragon a mention, even showing your head shots. My daughter’s obsessed with it, not the murder part but, uh . . . She likes the way you two look. You know how teenagers are,’ the receptionist clarified with another smile, the soft skin of his cheeks folding as muscles forced them out of the way for the expression of contentedness.

 ‘I guess it’s a well known case,’ Merlin reasoned, for his own benefit mostly.

 ‘Very. Isn’t there a press conference scheduled in the New Year?’

 Merlin chuckled, the sharp change in atmosphere refreshing but growing tedious. ‘I’m sure you’ll be watching, then?’

 ‘Well, it’s got lots of people worried.’

 ‘I’m sure it has,’ he agreed, fetching up another smile.

 The receptionist's smile dropped as he asked, ‘Why’re you here?’

 ‘I need to know where I can find Morgana Pendragon.’

 ‘She’s with Scotland Yard too, isn’t she? Visits a lot. Consulting I think.’

 ‘Yeah. Which floor?’

 ‘Floors thirty to sixty.’

 ‘Thirty floors?’

 ‘Yes. Can’t be more specific than that, sorry. If you don’t mind my asking, why’re you trying to find her?’

 ‘Oh, she’s a friend of mine,’ he lied, smiling.

 ‘Brush shoulders at the office quite a lot I imagine.’

 ‘All the time. Thank you,’ Merlin said and left the man to enter the lift to the side.

 ‘Happy Christmas!’ the man called to him.

 

 

Without thinking he pressed the circular button with ‘50’ engraved in its metal, and the number lit up as the heavy doors closed. He had no choice about seeing himself in the mirrors on the walls. His hair was damp and sticking up everywhere. ‘Ruffled’ barely cut it as a good description for his frazzled state. The thing that made him look away was what he saw in his eyes. It was a stranger. Paler, wearier, but stronger in the all wrong ways.

 When the doors opened he was welcomed by decorations of tinsel and a small christmas tree. A long hallway stretched ahead, with several doors on each side. At the end was a wall of glass, through which he could see the hub of business. He could also see Morgana’s fine figure flitting about in a dark dress, unfazed by any wound his bullet would have given her. Although he could see the busy office enjoying a bout of dubious work, not a sound escaped the glass cage.

 Mordred, Cenred, and the innocent deaths all flooded into him as a reminder. The previous normality conjured up in the receptionists presence fled and a dark pulsing rose around him. Merlin made his way down the hallway and each door he passed splintered, cracked and flew open with loud crashes. Wood shavings blew about wildly behind him. The occupants of the large glass room ahead remained unaware but the second his foot stepped out of the hallway and towards the glass wall, they couldn’t stay absorbed in their own business.

 The wall cracked at the edges and then with a surge of loathing Merlin shattered the glass, shards blowing into their work floor and whirling around before falling like a curtain of knives. Some people screamed and all ducked down to take cover. All except Morgana who remained unscathed.

 ‘I was wondering when you’d finally arrive,’ the lyrical and mellow voice commented. Merlin clenched his fists and watched as Morgause crunched over the glass to Morgana’s side.

 ‘Why are you doing this?’

 ‘You’ll have to be a bit more specific, darling,’ Morgause mocked. ‘Why are we taking lives? Why we tried to take yours? Why we’ve returned after so many years? Why Morgana? Mordred? Cenred?’

 ‘All of the above,’ he said indignantly.

 ‘Sweetheart . . .’ Morgause began, putting a hand to her chest to jokingly mimic pity, sympathy. ‘If it makes things better I didn’t agree with using Mordred, but Morgana insisted. Clearly, she was right.’

 ‘He didn’t kill me,’ Merlin reminded them.

 ‘No, but look at you. Fire and brimstone is what births a dragon and look at how you soar,’ she proclaimed, throwing her arms out to the side.

 ‘You’re under arrest,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Everyone here is under arrest!’

 ‘For what?’

 ‘“Taking lives”,’ he repeated her expression bitterly.

 ‘He’s adorable,’ Morgause said, turning to Morgana with a bemused smile. ‘I can see why Mordred was so enraptured by you. Oh, what could have been. It’s sad, really. Nay, it’s pitiful.’

 Merlin stared at her as the words soaked in. ‘What could have been?’

 ‘He technically failed to complete his test. You’re not dead but you have come into your powers, as was intended, so all’s well that ends well. However, those who fail their test lose their place with us,’ Morgana related. ‘Since they know so much, they usually need to die.’

 ‘You killed him?’

 ‘His existence became irrelevant. Waste. Of. Space,’ Morgana said coldly. ‘Now, are you in?’

 ‘In?’ Merlin reiterated breathlessly.

 ‘Old Religion,’ she elaborated with exasperation.

 ‘No. You’re all mad.’

 ‘What we are is a family, Merlin,’ Morgause said sweetly.

 ‘A cruel, sick, twisted family,’ he snarled.

 ‘You don’t belong out there!’ Morgana yelled at him as she took a step towards him. ‘You’re not quite human if you haven’t noticed.’

 ‘And that’s what you all are? Not quite human?’

 ‘Yes. The government doesn’t cater for the magical. Most of us can’t keep jobs. We end up homeless, in working class jobs or less when we can do so much more. That’s why we created Old Religion,’ she ranted, the burning charcoal in her eyes blowing out burning golden embers. ‘Do you honestly think Arthur will accept you?’

 ‘You tried to kill me!’

 ‘You were a threat. You might still be depending on how you answer,’ she said, her voice dropping to a growl.

 ‘I’d never be a part of Old Religion,’ he rejected immediately. ‘You kill. You hurt.’

 ‘Then you’re already half way there,’ Morgana noted with a dark chuckle.

 ‘That’s,’ he started but no explanation came. He felt the guilt close around his throat. ‘That’s . . .’

 ‘It’s in your nature to fight. To do what must be done if it means getting what you want. That’s what we do,’ she continued.

 ‘Just stop,’ he said with defeat. ‘Stop all of this.’

 ‘It’s not going to happen, Merlin. I let you be brave, but now it’s time for your final choice. Live or die,’ Morgana said.

 ‘I’d die any day if it meant being me. I won’t become a part of your circus.’

 ‘Pity. Your magic had the strongest potential I’ve ever seen,’ Morgause said while heading towards him. Merlin raised his hand up in defence.

 ‘Stay back,’ he warned.

 ‘I’m not sure you understand, darling. This is a kill or be killed situation,’ she sneered, keeping on course.

 ‘Stop!’ he felt the heat ripple through his arm and the air quiver as a quake shook through it. Morgana threw up her arm and swept the magic to the side, a window breaking in place of her body. Merlin tried to shove her back but it didn’t work and then her bony hand closed around his neck.

 ‘It’s still inside you, isn’t it? The Old magic. Once touched by it you will forever have lost a part of yourself, Merlin dear. Don’t fight this. Let it run through you. You’ve felt it’s strength,’ Morgause said.

 ‘No,’ he said hoarsely, struggling to draw in air.

 ‘Your King isn’t here to save you this time. Happily, for you, we’ve already taken the life we need. In six days time though, we’ll come for you. You’ve lost your life line.’

 ‘I’ll enjoy killing you. You’re a traitor to our kind,’ Morgana hissed into his ear with another dig of her nails into his neck.

 She dropped him to the ground and he choked for breath. A shadow enveloped him and the office, the broken glass and the piercing glares all disappeared. Claws cut into his skin, and out poured the cold waters.

 

 

He woke shuddering, the warmth blossoming in his chest and soothing each limb. Rubbing his blurry eyes the world sharpened and he took in his new surroundings.

 ‘Merlin? What are you doing here? What are you doing on the floor?’ Arthur’s string of questions got through to him after a moment’s confusion.

 Oh god. Another hospital. He could smell the disinfectant and scrambled out of the way of medics rushing someone pass in a bed. Shakily getting back to his feet and he stared at Arthur, rubbing his throat where Morgana’s hand had squeezed. The sky blue eyes were darker with reddened eyes. He was upset.

 ‘What’s wrong?’

 ‘You just appeared out of nowhere, and bloody hell you look like crap,’ Arthur charged on to say, voice steady and the tears clearly having long since departed.

 ‘Arthur. What’s happened? You left and didn’t come back,’ Merlin reminded him, somewhat sourly.

 ‘Gwen. Her dad . . . There was a car accident and they couldn’t save him,’ he explained, eyes momentarily seeming lost and scared.

 We’ve already taken the life we need.

 Merlin looked down to the linoleum floor, seeing the blurred reflection of the lights. Morgause had taken him here for a reason. She’d taken the coldness out of him, drained the source of those electrifying waves. He couldn’t decide whether he was grateful or not. He’d unknowingly been numbed but now he felt everything with an unbearable potency. His throat was sore, his heart throbbed with shame at what he’d done to Cenred and then with misery at the death that swarmed around him. How the warmth he’d always felt was this power. A power that had warped everyone involved with the Old Religion.

 ‘She’s with a doctor right now. He’s explaining what happened,’ Arthur said, having come to lean against the wall next to him. ‘How did you get here?’

 ‘Um,’ Merlin hummed, brow pinching slightly as he struggled to come up with an explanation. He thought about telling Arthur, but what Morgana had said was lodged in his head. Would Arthur accept it? Him? He didn’t seem like someone who’d easily believe in anything close to magic. Let alone Merlin having it.

 ‘And the floor? Did you trip or something?’

 ‘Yeah, I fell. I’ve managed to hide my clumsy side from you so far but I guess it’s out,’ Merlin said with a hollow chuckle. Inside he could feel the heat unravelling, spreading its roots again. ‘This is just one tragedy after another, huh?’

 ‘Gwen, though. She doesn’t deserve any of this. Neither do you,’ Arthur said more seriously, his eyes locked on Merlin.

 ‘And you do?’

 ‘I know I can handle it,’ Arthur explained. There was the warrior. Born to fight, but still so soft of heart. Standing there with battle scars weighing down his shoulders while they kept him standing tall at the same time, Merlin wondered about how bruised that heart was. How hard the kingly shell Arthur wore had become over the last few years. How hard it was going to become. If having armour made you resistant to fear.

 ‘I’m not a damsel in distress,’ Merlin scoffed, trying to maintain that shred of normality in their conversation. Keep it feeling less surreal, while Morgana’s threat still stained his thoughts. ‘I can handle it as well. I’d rather not have to, but we don’t get much choice in these things, do we?’

 ‘It’s bloody Christmas as well!’

 ‘Bloody’s the right word to use,’ Merlin muttered darkly.

 ‘Hey. We’re trained into the ground to deal with this kind of thing. Albeit nothing quite to vicious and some things no one can ever be prepared to face, but we’ll end it. Soon,’ Arthur insisted. Merlin stood in awe of the unfaltering hope, the optimism remaining strong underneath it all. Affection was pierced by jealousy.

 ‘Arthur,’ Merlin began, speaking lowly. ‘In another six days someone else dies. Another one after that. Who knows what happens when they’ve completed this cycle.’

 Should he tell Arthur? About where to find Old Religion, about Morgana, about Mordred? About himself? The fear that it would make things worse, that Arthur would charge into hell and it would snap its jaws shut around him forever, held him back from saying more. Let him be hopeful. Ignorance is bliss after all. Morgause had never given him a straight answer as to why they murdered people so what would stop them from changing their minds and killing Arthur?

 ‘You’re really out of it,’ Arthur commented as he pressed his hand to Merlin’s cheek. The contact brought Merlin out of his thoughts. He felt Arthur’s own warmth as he had in St Thomas’, and once again he felt it with death brooding over them. Reaching up he curled his fingers around Arthur’s hand.

 ‘There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, right?’

 ‘Always,’ Arthur murmured.

 ‘Oh, sorry, I, um,’ Gwen stammered, emerging from the room. Arthur immediately pulled his hand away and moved to her side, hands on her shoulders and wiping tear streaks from her cheeks.

 ‘Do you want me to take you home?’ he asked her quietly, but Merlin could hear it with an odd clarity. Behind the two of them the doctor appeared. Merlin took in his bronze skin, strong jaw, thick brows and dark eyes. Arthur noticed as well and, remaining at Gwen’s side, greeted him.

 ‘Doctor Lance du Lac,’ the man introduced himself, giving Gwen a comforting pat before speaking with the two of them. Merlin had tuned out, shrinking into the hospital wall. As one problem fixed itself several more reared their ugly heads and his mind tried to compartmentalise. Anything to keep his emotions in check. To stop what had happened with Cenred from happening again. Ever. The power he’d felt skirted along his skin still and the gut wrenching noises the man had made kept echoing in his mind. Behind that suffocating layer rested Mordred and the fear. Beyond that Merlin couldn’t bare to explore. So, he locked it all up and kept it hidden. The only things he would let free would be the present troubles and Arthur.

 ‘Merlin, I’m going with Gwen. Do you want to come?’ Arthur asked lightly, tugging him from his thoughts.

 ‘No,’ he replied, still withdrawn.

 ‘Merlin, you can’t be a alone,’ Arthur implored.

 ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got something.’

 Merlin flinched at the pained expression on Arthur’s face. ‘Merlin. For me?’

 ‘Gwen needs to mourn, and my being there won’t help. You two go. I really do have something to do,’ he explained.

 ‘Don’t go after Old Religion alone. Promise me?’

 ‘I promise,’ Merlin said too easily. It sounded far too genuine and calm. Had Morgana truly rid him of everything poisonous Mordred had infected him with? Like the cold touch of fog, something still didn’t feel right. Everything felt unsettlingly fine which in itself put him on edge and scared him more than any death threats could. He felt fine. He felt the power. He heard the shattering glass, the wet crack of bone, the kind conversations of strangers and it all convened in the present. It all felt fine. He knew it wasn’t.

 Arthur started to turn away but twisted back and enfolded Merlin in a tight hug. His arms were strong and secure, his body bulkier than Merlin’s and comforting. Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He’d always hated lying. Keeping secrets. He had since he was little and now he was doing it to the man he found the most joy in. He knew he hated it. He did hate it, didn’t he? His hands clutched at the soft fabric of Arthur’s grey shirt.

 It struck him how it must seem to other people. Two grown men hugging in a hospital. They’d assume loss or bad news. Merlin lifted his eyelids wearily and felt the warm wetness of tears which left his eyes to travel down the landscape of his cheek. They pulled apart and he left before Arthur could notice.


	14. Human Virtue

Scrubbing his hands over his face Merlin arrived back at Scotland Yard. Bending his steps towards Cenred’s holding cell he sent Gaius a quick text:

 They’ve murdered Gwen’s dad and I’m the next target in their cycle. We need to talk.

 Pocketing his mobile he approached the guard. ‘How is he?’

 In return he got a wide eyed stare. The woman didn’t seem to know how to answer and when she did, Merlin felt his heart tighten with a band of horror. ‘In a coma.’

 ‘Shit,’ he breathed, every part of him feeling far too light and airy.

 ‘He had a brain haemorrhage,’ she continued.

 The panic flashed white and and hot. ‘From what?’

 ‘Stroke,’ she said.

 ‘You know-’

 ‘Don’t worry,’ she carried on and offered him a small smile. ‘DCS Agravaine told me what happened.’ 

 Merlin frowned. ‘He did?’

 ‘Oh, he actually wanted to have a word with you. Knew you’d come here, you see.’

 ‘Right,’ Merlin murmured. Returning to his desk he slowly sat down and covered his face with his hands. After a few minutes of shooing away all thoughts he leaned forward onto the table with defeat. Head resting on folded arms, Merlin concentrated on his breathing while staring at the wall. He tired to distinguish brush strokes from when it had been painted with the painfully boring white.

 Hardly anyone was there, most people celebrating at home. Merlin thought of his mother, how she’d be having Christmas Dinner with her friends right now. The cards hung up around the fireplace, the large tree erected and lavishly decorated with ridiculous colours. The intoxicating smell of cinnamon. 

 ‘Ah, DC Emrys,’ a man said, and sitting up straight to face him, Merlin stared into beady eyes. Middle-aged, slightly on the chubby side, and with black hair gelled down making it appear slick, slightly greasy. A refined kind of repulsive. Merlin was in a bad mood. ‘I’m your new Detective Chief Superintendent.’

 ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Merlin said flatly, still pulling out of his reverie.

 ‘It’s terrible business, what happened to Cenred. Wouldn’t you agree?’

 ‘Yeah. It is,’ he muttered, watching Agravaine carefully. He’d felt unsettled the moment the guard had spoke of the DCS, and now facing him his warmth recoiled. 

 ‘Now, I understand you’re rather new to this murder investigation team?’ DCS Agravaine inquired, and Merlin swore he heard something patronising in his arrogantly superior tone. Repulsive and pompous. Great.

 He did his best to hide the look of derision. ‘I am.’

 ‘Hm, well you’ve made quite the splash. Although I do remember requesting you take the next few days off,’ Agravaine reminded him.

 ‘I’m fine,’ Merlin insisted.

 ‘I can arrange for you to see therapist?’ he suggested, eyebrows arching and then lip corners turning down with fake concern. ‘You’ve been through several traumatic events, after all.’

 ‘I’m really fine,’ he repeated, the lie feeling heavy and yet unnaturally easy to say.

 ‘Yes, well, it’s not entirely optional,’ the DCS added, any and all concern washing from his features. ‘I thought I’d let you gain your feet before I informed you, but if you insist on working, I’ll tell you now.’

 Merlin regarded him skeptically. ‘Tell me what?’

 ‘Starting in January it will be mandatory for you to have a weekly session with an assigned psychotherapist. Your superior, DS Arthur Pendragon, will need to see a grief counsellor alongside his sister and PC Gwen Castell.’ 

 ‘It’s really not necessary,’ Merlin persisted.

 ‘But it is mandatory,’ Agravaine said coldly. ‘Now, back to the matter of Cenred; I’d like to clear some things up as to what happened in your time spent with him proceeding his stroke.’

 ‘Anything specific?’ Merlin asked through gritted teeth.

 ‘What did you discuss with him?’

 ‘I wanted to see if he knew anything more about Old Religion,’ he said honestly.

 Agravaine chuckled. Whether he was amused by the fact or incredulity of it was unclear. ‘A conversation during which you hit the man?’

 ‘Yes.’

 ‘Well, don’t fear; the punch wasn’t the cause of his stroke. Aside from that of course, medics found no other explanation,’ Agravaine commented, and his smothering stare shifted into one of nonchalance. The ease of the transition between the two left Merlin even more suspicious. ‘It’s a complete stumper, put simply. Was he acting odd at all?’

 ‘Not as far as I could tell.’

 ‘Hm. Well, do yourself a favour? Go home, DC Emrys,’ Agravaine said with that fake concern creasing the worn skin between his eyebrows. ‘Impromptu and violent interrogations of criminals on Christmas Day usually mean the stress is getting to you.’ 

 Merlin pressed his lips together in a forced smile. ‘Couldn’t agree more.’

 ‘Off you go,’ Agravaine urged, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder before stalking away. Merlin rose sullenly from the chair, eyes following the DCS until he turned out of sight. He felt the urge to have a scalding shower and burn the goo of that man’s conversation from his skin. 

 Looking over the floor of his team’s operations, Merlin smiled gently at the horrendous decorations Gwaine had strung up with Percy. He hadn’t even noticed. The smile drooped and he turned his sights to the windows, through which London sprawled, twinkling and lit up like a tree in the darkness. He left to the nearest underground station with that image imprinted on his mind. The quiet of the empty offices still pressing against him despite being surrounded by rushing trains and chattering people.

 

 

  Merlin hesitated at the door. He closed his eyes and traced the rivets in the wood; in return he could feel the world turning and the shifting tectonic plates beneath the Earth’s crust. He could hear the voices of builders when they’d first constructed the building, the conversations that had passed the door and soaked into it as murmurs of the past. 

 Curling his fingers the sensations tore out of him and he knocked on the door. No one answered. Steadying his breath he spread his fingers apart and pushed his palm towards the lock of the door. He imagined it unlocking, and a hand of smoke reached out from his own and disappeared into the metal and wood, its grey form lifting each tumbler until the locking mechanism gave way. 

 Inside Merlin took in the wide and open space. The shadows made it seem endless but when he flicked on the lights they all fled. The clarity and brightness was even more comfort. The thing that made his nerves settle more than anything else was the knowledge that he was in Arthur’s territory. It was Arthur’s home and here Merlin was safe. After wandering around, remembering the short time he’d spent there before, he opened the only closed door.

 Clothing laid haphazardly on the floor, but aside from that everything was white, clean and fresh. Merlin thought about how Arthur slept here, surrounded by such purity and then making a mess of it with his personality. It plucked a smile from his darkest sources of stress. Picking up a book on the nightstand he read: ‘Profiling and Serial Crime: Theoretical and Practical Issues’. There was a worn bookmark sticking out with pride, peeling at the sides and corners, but it kept the information on pause for whenever Arthur would return to it next.

 Placing it back he took in hand the black iPod and untangled the twisted confusion of the headphone’s wires. Quickly toeing off his shoes and shedding his jacket, Merlin climbed tiredly into the bed and plugged in the headphones. The light was dim enough that it didn’t bother him so, hugging the downy duvet closer, he turned the iPod on and let Arthur’s music spill into his mind. Let it whisk him away from the day’s events, away from it all.

 

 

 Merlin stirred when he felt a hand brush across cheek. Groggily lifting his heavy lids he made out the blurry outline of blonde hair and broad shoulders.

 ‘Arthur?’

 ‘Who else, you dolt? You’re in my bed, I hope you realise.’

 ‘Yeah, sorry,’ he mumbled, rolling onto his back, feeling his clothes wrapped awkwardly tightly around his limbs. Evidently it hadn’t been the soundest of nights. 

 ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to ask how you got in without a key,’ he said, perching on the edge of the mattress when his lips pursed with bother. ‘When’s the last time you ate something?’

 Merlin pondered while he wriggled into a sitting position. ‘I don’t remember.’

 ‘I’ll go make breakfast for us then,’ Arthur declared but before he could leave Merlin caught him by the hand, holding on for a second longer before pulling his arm back.

 ‘How’s Gwen?’

 ‘Elyan’s staying with her for now. She’ll be okay,’ he said, eyes becoming distant. ‘You should know, I’ve spoken to DCS Agravaine about pulling you guys out of the equation.’

 ‘You guys?’

 ‘I’m going to stay on the case, but I can’t afford to have my team put at this kind of risk any longer,’ he explained with a natural undercurrent of heroism. Bravery. It was ridiculous even if admirable.

 ‘What did they say to that?’

 ‘I haven’t told them yet. If they say no then I’ll have them suspended and if that doesn’t work I’ll lock them up myself,’ Arthur informed him with determination and when his eyes refocussed they locked all of his attention on Merlin. ‘That includes you. No discussion.’

 ‘What? No, I refuse!’ Merlin rejected, not bothering to hide the hurt on his face at the audacity of what Arthur was suggesting. The rest of the team he could accept, although not enjoy. Not him, though. 

 ‘Did you hear any of what I just said?’

 ‘You need me. We’re in this together, remember? Two sides of the same bloody coin,’ Merlin said, his own anxiety joining hands with the warmth, the magic, and beating against his heart relentlessly. Reminding him that the worst things kept taking place when one of them was alone. Never when together. Shadows flickered through his mind with those thoughts and their iciness made him shudder.

 ‘I thought you of all people would be okay with this, given what almost happened with Mordred,’ Arthur said, almost looking offended at Merlin’s outright dismissal. There was a sliver of comprehension and understanding in his features however. 

 ‘You can’t abandon me,’ Merlin murmured, fuelling his words with accusation but primarily his own terror. What Arthur proposed threatened to burst this haven Merlin had found after everything, this zone of protection. Like hell was he going to let the fool drag a stupid idea into it and stain the sanctuary with doomed ideas. 

 ‘I’m not!’

 ‘If you cut me out of this case, you are,’ Merlin snapped, instantly regretting the sharpness of his tone. Arthur was being stupid, but with good intentions after all. We’ll come for you. You’ve lost your life line. Morgana kept scraping against his reality and tugging him into the icy reservoir he’d managed to escape. The one he thought he’d escaped.

 ‘Not like it’ll make a difference,’ Merlin whispered sourly.

 His fingers fidgeted in a pale pile on the duvet and when his eyes drop he heard Arthur pause. ‘Pardon?’

 ‘You need me,’ Merlin said loudly, keeping those quiet words a secret.

 ‘You know what? In some ways, I suppose I do. But this is my destiny, my job. Not yours,’ he retorted, features set with hard resolve. Their eyes locked and Merlin saw the bright reflection of that armour in Arthur’s blue eyes. He was being shut out.

 ‘I know where they are,’ Merlin admitted, eyebrows pulling down and mouth pursing.

 ‘Where who are?’

 Keeping his mouth shut he explored the consequences of continuing. Although weighty, they were a lot more desirable than Arthur gallivanting off on his own. ‘Old Religion.’

 Several emotions flashed across Arthur’s face consecutively: shock, anger, betrayal. Stepping away from the door Arthur faced him with his whole body. ‘Merlin, I explicitly told you not to go after them alone. You swore you wouldn’t!’

 ‘I went before you told me. If you really want to stop them you need me to find them in the first place,’ Merlin argued and felt his body warm up with guilt and fear. Arthur had no choice but to keep him involved now, right? The duvet suddenly seemed too heavy, too smothering.

 ‘You are such an idiot,’ he puffed, resting his forearm on the doorframe and glaring at Merlin.

 Biting his lip Merlin decided to give up one more secret. ‘There’s one more thing . . .’

 ‘What?’ Arthur asked, the defeat already thriving in his tone.

 ‘I tried to tell you earlier, but-’

 ‘Out with it, Merlin.’

 ‘Morgana’s a member of Old Religion,’ he revealed and pushed the hot covers away from his body, shoving them down the mattress with his feet. Fresh air rolled across him and with no barrier he felt Arthur’s tension vibrate through the room’s air. 

 There was an interval of heavy silence. ‘This isn’t a time for jokes.’

 ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’ Merlin inquired quietly, defensively. Something angry and frustrated laced his words without his permission.

 ‘She’s not,’ he said harshly. ‘Why would you say that?’

 ‘I’m no liar, Arthur. Please,’ Merlin paused and rubbed his weary eyes. ‘Trust me?’

 ‘I can handle you being a twat, I can deal with you throwing your life around like it’s nothing, but accusing my sister?’ his words cut off and Merlin could see Arthur clenching his jaw. He didn’t say another word and left Merlin sitting alone in his bed. The doorway was now empty and unfriendly.

 ‘Good job, Merlin,’ he muttered to himself and let his head fall into his hands, feeling the taught air coil around him and inside him. After a second of contemplation he flopped back down onto the pillow and decided to leave Arthur be. Let him work things out and figure out whether he believed Merlin or wanted him out. Although he enticed sleep to come again he simply laid there and felt the knots spring up in his stomach, tightening as time passed.

 When the morning light streamed in through the window and Merlin watched particles swirl and dance, bathing in it. H decided he’d emerge. He found Arthur in the kitchen, standing before the hob and stirring eggs with a wooden spoon.

 ‘Arthur,’ Merlin began, stepping onto the cold tiles in his socks. ‘I saw Morgana with my own eyes. She was with Morgause. I didn’t shoot her because I thought she was the killer-’

 ‘She was going to kill me,’ Arthur filled in, keeping his eyes on the eggs. ‘I got a call. Kilgharrah explained the situation. Morgana’s betrayed us all.’

 Merlin stood just beyond the threshold, unsure of what to do. Arthur bent down to a cupboard and took out two ceramic plates, serving up the scrambled eggs silently. Adorning each dish with a fork he picked up both and walked up to Merlin, pushing one towards him. He took it, feeling its weight in his fingers, and pressed himself against the frame to let Arthur pass.

 ‘Merlin, sorry about what I said. About dealing with you and your ridiculous tendency to almost die. It was a horrible thing to say.’

 ‘Well, thank you for saving my life.’

 ‘You’d do the same for me,’ Arthur assumed, correctly. ‘Let’s eat and form some sort of plan.’

 They both sat down at the table pressed up against the window and Merlin shovelled in the eggs. Arthur poked at his own but slowly started to eat, every now and then asking Merlin about his encounter with Old Religion. He kept his responses short and lacklustre, preferring not to indulge the worrying thoughts which assaulted him if he delved into that memory. The threat of his death was also never brought up. Arthur had been battling with the hellish events and Merlin knew that fact would bring him to the brink of his sanity.

 When they’d eaten breakfast Arthur offered Merlin a change of clothes which he accepted, alongside a shower, and then they began to pose theories as to how to deal with Old Religion.

 ‘We need to be careful. They’re serial killers and they have . . .’ Merlin’s words stopped pouring out. He’d been tittering on about the risks and for a moment forgot who it was he was speaking to. Arthur didn’t know about Merlin’s newfound power and he didn’t want to entertain the thought of what sort of reaction he might have if he found out. ‘Weapons; bombs, guns, you name it. They’re unpredictable.’

 ‘Killing one person every six days isn’t that unpredictable,’ Arthur noted. 

 ‘That’s just one fraction of what their organisation does. It’s not the whole story,’ he said, and he knew his trepidation kept flitting across his face.

 ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re holding something back from me?’

 ‘You’re paranoid?’

 ‘Merlin.’

 ‘I swear I’m not,’ Merlin said. There it was again, the ease with which the lies formed. Delivery was flawless. Even his mind had to double check the truth in his words.   

 Arthur narrowed his eyes. ‘Fine then. To limit what they can do, we should keep them contained. Get them all into one area. As many members as we can. You said they had several floors in the complex?’

 ‘Thirty. Thirty floors,’ he recounted, seeing the awe in Arthur he himself had experienced the day before.

 After letting it sink in, he presented his solution: ‘We’ll need to cut off access in and out of the building then. Evacuate everyone else.’

 ‘They might notice it when no one else shows up in the building.’

 ‘Not if we’re clever about it.’

 ‘I’m sure Gwaine can figure it out,’ Merlin said, not quite convinced but hopeful. A series of angry phone calls and threatening messages had persuaded Arthur that including the team was the most sensible course of action. ‘That’s his area, being so mischievous all the time.’

 ‘When should we do it, though?’

 The date shot from his mouth: ‘Thirty first.’ 

 ‘New Year’s Eve?’ Arthur said with raised eyebrows.

 ‘It’s their next six days marker. Gives us time to set everything up, and after will be too late. Another body,’ he reasoned, feeling his heart thump at the mention of ‘body’. If he didn’t stop them, Arthur would find that body. Find him. At least they’d be intent on murdering Merlin before anyone else on the team which meant their survival rate was significantly increased, even if his own was lessened.

 ‘Alright. It’s not like any of us have had the best Christmas ever. What’s New Years added to the list?’ he agreed glumly and Merlin watched as his mind drifted. Arthur was lost in contemplation before returning with a bright spark in his blue eyes. ‘I need to go buy some more food.’

 ‘But you have-’

 ‘Not enough food for two people. I’ll be gone for an hour tops,’ he rushed, leaping up from his seat. Grabbing a jacket and tugging on shoes he was out the front door before Merlin could even respond. The door banged closed and he sat bewildered. He was right of course. Arthur didn’t have much of a selection at all. Eggs, orange juice, coffee. Not particularly substantial.

 Moving to the sofa he pulled his knees up to his chest and turned on the TV to fend off the silence. Their plan played out in his thoughts like a movie. Every ending he came up was ultimately swung back into blood and destruction. Merlin hadn’t been strong enough to fight Morgana, let alone an entire group of magic users.

 Arthur’s home phone began ringing and lured Merlin from his musings back to the present. Trudging over to the base he lifted it to his ear.

 ‘Hello?’

 ‘Merlin, I thought you might be there,’ a familiar crackling voice remarked with relief.

 ‘Gaius?’

 ‘Kilgharrah and I have found a way you can bring Old Religion to their knees,’ the man announced with that same odd commanding voice.

 ‘Care to share it?’

 ‘A spell.’

 Merlin’s bubble of laughter erupted before he could catch it. ‘Sorry, but did you say spell? I’m still in denial about magic, Gaius, do you honestly think I can cast spells?’

 ‘It’s the only weapon you have that will have any effect on them, Merlin. You must at least try or you have no hope,’ he said harshly, and Merlin looked down at his feet resignedly. 

 ‘No need to be melodramatic about it,’ he mumbled. ‘What will it do?’

 ‘Take away their powers. Translated directly it will remove their magic and imprison it in time, restoring human virtue,’ he lectured. ‘You’ll have to put your all into it. The spell isn’t very specific about how many people it affects, but it’s certainly plural and the stronger it is the farther it should reach. Presumably you won’t experience it for yourself, but there isn’t a lot of detail.’

 ‘How did you two find a spell in the first place? Amazon? Don’t tell me you found it on Wikipedia.’

 ‘My family has long been a part of the mystical world,’ Gaius silenced his ramblings with ancestral pride. 

 ‘You’re a scientist,’ Merlin reminded him. ‘Wouldn’t magic impeach upon the empirical and logical qualities prized by science?’

 ‘In some ways science is a form of magic,’ Gaius countered.

 ‘Not really.’

 ‘It’ll do you good to keep your opinions to yourself. Grab a pen and write down what I say. Now, if you please,’ Gaius instructed over the line, his patience wearing thin.

 Merlin scurried around the flat, opening drawers and cupboards in his hunt. ‘Okay, okay.’

 ‘Ready?’ Gaius checked once Merlin had stopped rifling around.

 ‘Yup,’ he said, the pen poised over the back of an old envelope. ‘Read it to me.’


	15. An Earthquake

‘Merlin, I’m back!’ Arthur bellowed and Merlin scrunched up the envelope, stuffing it into the pocket of Arthur’s jogging bottoms. He poked his head out from the bedroom to see the DS look around the living room in confusion. ‘Merlin?’

 ‘Here,’ he said, joining him. They’d been sat down for the better part of the day and Merlin hadn’t noticed the fit of Arthur’s clothes. Now it was a bigger distraction than hiding the spell with Arthur’s eyes skimming over his slim frame. The jogging bottoms were comfortable but just managed to hang on his hips. The t-shirt fell around his torso loosely while it he’d seen it hug Arthur’s body. Merlin shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

 Arthur’s lips crooked up at the side but he pulled his focus back to Merlin’s eyes and hoisted up the two plastic bags with success. ‘Guess what I got.’

 ‘Food?’

 ‘Really, Merlin?’

 ‘Yummy food?’

 Arthur groaned dramatically and shook his head disapprovingly. He left to the kitchen and put the bags down on the work surface. ‘Most shops were closed, but I found this corner shop, although they didn’t have the best ingredients. Potatoes, carrots, brussel sprouts, chicken,’ he listed enthusiastically. ‘Since we couldn’t really celebrate yesterday, how about we try a crappy version of Christmas dinner now? By which I mean you cook and I keep you entertained with my marvellous personality. Scrambled eggs reach the extent of my culinary skills. I usually order out.’

 ‘Sounds like fun,’ Merlin said, helping him unpack. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Arthur looking the happiest he’d been in days.

 ‘Hold on a second. There’s one last thing,’ Arthur muttered and walked out. Merlin slid the chicken onto a shelf in the fridge, followed by the vegetables, loving how it made it all more colourful. Filled rather than barren.

 ‘Okay, turn around,’ Arthur commanded, the smile evident in his content tone. Merlin shut the fridge and faced him, a little lost as to what was happening. In front of him Arthur held a present. Complete with silvery wrapping paper with cartoon snow men smiling and tipping hats, curly “Merry Christmas!”’s printed all over it. ‘Merry Christmas, Merlin.’

 ‘I didn’t get you anything,’ he muttered while the memories of cinnamon Christmas’ and the solace of the holiday shrouded him like a blanket.

 ‘You did. You breathing is gift enough. Now open it you ungrateful dolt.’

 ‘Right, yeah,’ Merlin said, emerging contentedly from his reverie to take the gift into his own hands. He carefully put it down on the counter and removed the wrapping paper, being sure to keep it intact and unscathed by the process. It revealed a black case. Lifting the lid he saw a glittering foam bed in which a gun slept peacefully. He explored the hard plastic body of the pistol, the power it held surging up his fingertips. The potential lying dormant, awaiting his command.

 ‘You’ve got the training and licence, but I noticed you never actually got one,’ Arthur mused. ‘You keep getting yourself almost killed, so I figured you could use it. If I’d given it to you sooner, instead of waiting, you might have had it before Mord-’

 ‘I love it,’ Merlin said quickly, spinning round and hugging him. He did marvel at the gift, but the hug was more for Arthur’s sake than his own. He benefited from the soothing act of course, but there was a guilt in Arthur’s voice he wanted to melt away.

 ‘It’s a Glock 26. Standard issue for plain clothes officers like yourself,’ he said, squeezing Merlin for a second and then stepping back, still beaming. ‘Take it with you on Wednesday?’

 Despite his reservations Merlin caught Arthur’s chipper mood and grinned. ‘I will.’

 ‘Good.’

 Arthur ruffled Merlin’s hair before dragging him out to the table and opening his laptop.

 ‘What are you doing?’

 ‘Finding a recipe,’ Arthur murmured, typing in his password. Merlin caught his hands before he could continue.

 ‘Don’t bother,’ he said. Arthur’s look of confusion led him on to elaborate, ‘I used to make Christmas dinner with my mum. This is the first year I haven’t actually been home for Christmas.’

 ‘Really?’

 ‘She’d always insist I go back. This time though,’ he paused, ghostly shadows of his mother’s Christmas fire falling over his face, ‘it wasn’t exactly an option.’

 ‘Oh. At least I get to have you,’ Arthur remarked with a toothy smile, nudging Merlin’s shoulder with his fist. ‘You know, with your experience and knowledge when it comes to festive dishes.’

 ‘That you do,’ Merlin admitted. With all seriousness he added, ‘You’re helping though.’

 ‘Am not.’

 ‘Yes you are, you royal prat,’ Merlin insisted, this time being the one to loop his arm through Arthur’s and pulling him back to the kitchen.

 ‘Watch your tongue!’ he exclaimed.

 ‘I’m not your servant. I can insult you as much as I like,’ Merlin asserted as he turned on the hob. ‘Where do you keep the pots?’

 

 

 Days passed and the preparations came together. Covertly informing the complex’s workers meant the building would be clear on New Years and the armed response teams were willing to help them out. Merlin had called Morgana, telling her he’d come willingly, when Arthur had been showering. It insured that Old Religion would be there; she’d even given him a specific floor number which made life easier. Since the truth had been let out about her, no one had made any attempt at contact and she’d left Uther’s mansion.

 Arthur had  made a quick visit to his father’s old home after Boxing Day, fetching the will to talk it over with the solicitors. They’d only had one meeting, saving the rest for after the funeral. When he’d returned to the flat he’d told Merlin about all of Morgana’s things missing, but all their shared valuables were safe and sound. He’d seemed distant.

 It was Tuesday and Merlin sat curled up on the sofa watching a documentary, stomach filled and content. He peeked at Arthur who had collapsed down on the other side. Without wavering his sight from the truly fascinating re-enactment playing, he moved closer to the blonde.

 ‘We could die tomorrow,’ Arthur murmured. Merlin looked at his profile. It wasn’t scared, taught, scrunched up with worry. It was absent of an emotion. He’d begun to see how Arthur locked away emotion, but he could never keep it from his eyes. Tonight they seemed withdrawn, conflicted.

 ‘We could die at any time. If we couldn’t, it wouldn’t be called living,’ Merlin mused. He’d spent the last few hundred hours thinking about it and he’d had a wonderful epiphany that put to rest his anxiety. You wouldn’t know it. Sure, you’d no longer be living, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? If he died, he died knowing Arthur, Gwaine, all these people he’d met less than a month ago but felt like he’d known for years. He’d know more about himself; understand the heat that thrived like a creature beneath his skin. He wouldn’t know death and nothing. He wouldn’t be alive to think about it.

 So, he’d moved through that fear and faced the next one which he’d dealt with too. Losing Arthur. That, he’d decided, wouldn’t happen.

 ‘How are you so calm?’ Arthur asked, resting his gaze on Merlin.

 ‘Because we have a solid plan. We have one of the best teams I’ve ever worked with. We have the great Arthur Pendragon,’ he explained, prodding Arthur’s chest to drive home his point.

 ‘What if I’m not that great? Morgana’s known me since childhood; she knows some very personal things that could be used against me, against us. Old Religion’s been around longer than I’ve been alive, they’ve killed dozens of people and Ambrosia shows how much influence they might have. You’ve almost died twice now thanks to them, and Gwen’s suffering more than she ever should have, then the possible repercussions of taking them out, if we succeed, and I’ve been losing myself with the damn stress of it-’

 His words evaporated into a surprised gasp when Merlin shifted forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. Merlin didn’t pull away when Arthur remained frozen. Instead he slid his hand around the back of his head and wrapped the other around Arthur’s waist. The DS’ body finally responded after his initial hesitation. Merlin’s eyes drooped closed with his and he could feel the air roll across his burning skin, heart thumping in his chest. Arthur had no reservation with nothing left to them but each other, gently pressing Merlin down and draping himself over his thin frame.

 His fingers ran down the dip in Arthur’s back and through the thin fabric of his t-shirt he felt his heat, felt how the muscles had strained throughout his life. From running, chasing, shooting and jumping. From going to the gym late at night to morning jogs through the city.

 They exchanged their experiences and lives in equal measure when they exchanged their breaths and Merlin wished to all the world that he could let Arthur feel what he felt. For Arthur to know about him what he could know from Arthur by one simple caress.

 ‘Sorry . . . What was I saying?’ Arthur inquired breathlessly when they released each other at last. His eyes opened, pupils blown wide, when Merlin brushed his thumb across his cheek.

 ‘You can do this. We can do this,’ he affirmed before pulling the blonde back down to lose himself in Arthur’s life while their connection spiralled like a galaxy in his heart.

 

 

 The winds bared their teeth, threatening to bite them with each passing moment. Around him his friends stood in their armour, Kevlar strapped to their chests and batons at their sides. Armed response teams had gotten into position minutes ago and now they waited on Kilgharrah’s command.

 ‘Merlin and I will go in through the lift,’ Arthur said as he loaded his pistol. ‘Gwaine, Percy, you two will use the scaffolding on the east side.’

 ‘Which floor?’ Percy asked.

 Merlin tucked the Glock into the back of his trousers. ‘Fifty third.’

 Arthur looked to their final member. ‘Elyan-’

 ‘I know. Staircase.’

 ‘Is Gwen still . . .’ Merlin started, unsure of how he should word it.

 ‘She’s recovering from the shock,’ Elyan answered helpfully. ‘She was always closer to dad than me.’

 ‘Everyone’s earpieces working?’ Arthur checked and received a chorus of ‘yes’s.

 Kilgharrah joined their cluster on the pavement. ‘The armed defence units will be waiting at all exits, just in case. If you haven’t contacted them by three they’ll move in, so you’ve got an hour to try negotiation.’

 ‘Why aren’t they taking control of this operation? Gwaine inquired, shooting a wary glance at the last few officers who began to split off to their zones, guns in hand.

 ‘Because you’re the best we have,’ Kilgharrah remarked, his age wiped away with the impressive memory of the warrior he used to be. ‘Now go prove it.’

 ‘It’s been an honour,’ Arthur addressed them all and silent words passed from one to the other. Everyone departed but Merlin held back.

 ‘What if I’m not strong enough?’ he asked the DCI, the fear bright and alive in his eyes.

 ‘Merlin,’ Arthur beckoned at the building’s entrance.

 ‘The magic has only ever happened by accident or emotionally or pure luck,’ he rushed, acutely aware of the danger and severity of what he was about to voluntarily enter into.

 ‘Emrys,’ Kilgharrah said and Merlin felt a jolt. A ripple that ran through the heat in his blood like an earthquake. ‘You’ll be the strongest of them all.’


	16. Fractured

 Merlin’s shoulder was pressed against Arthur’s as they stood together, the lift carrying them up to Old Religion.

 ‘Do you have the gun?’

 ‘Yeah,’ Merlin said while he tapped each fingertip against his thumb, over and over again systematically. The cold plastic dug into his tailbone where it sat hidden and prepared to leap into action.

 ‘Fingers crossed,’ Arthur muttered before he squeezed Merlin’s left hand. The attempt at comfort was appreciated but didn’t help. The closer they got to the floor the harder it was to breathe. Old Religion’s magic was webbed through the air and Merlin kept thinking he’d become trapped in the silk strings.

 Arthur’s grip tightened around the gun when the lift stopped, their only barrier sliding away when the doors opened. Ahead, at the end of the long corridor, Morgana and Morgause waited. Silently stepping out Merlin and Arthur marched forward. Like his last visit, they passed several office doors until coming to the main work floor. The glass shards had been cleared and the broken window boarded up. Merlin could see the metal bars of scaffolding running along outside the right of the room. He wondered how long it would take Percy and Gwaine to get there. Wondered if Elyan had made it to the staircase yet.

 Behind Morgana and Morgause the rest of Old Religion’s members watched. Some were curious, others angry, and one or two elated. The desks were no where to be seen, the entire room having been cleared. It made Merlin’s stomach twist into tighter knots.

 ‘You’ve sentenced all your friends to death, Merlin,’ Morgana taunted, her eyes even more striking with the dark make-up painted with abandon over her features. The red that used to mark her lips was gone, leaving her face drained and filled only with shadows and deathly paleness. The sight of his sister, her cruel words, made Arthur stiffen. How they all had arms by their sides, no one possessing any sort of weapon, probably set him on edge as well. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. The webs were strumming with an inaudible rhythm all around him, magic pulsing through the floor and air.

 ‘What’s she talking about?’

 ‘I never thought awakening your power would turn you into a heartless buffoon,’ Morgause said, almost with regret. Her small mouth pulled back to show her teeth into a mockery of a grin. ‘Arthur, is it? Young Emrys here gave us a helpful phone call. Planned this whole meeting in fact. Of course he gave the impression he’d be coming alone. No matter.’

 ‘He did what?’ Arthur asked, the confusion twisting his face.

 ‘I’s not what you think,’ he assured him quietly.

 Morgause’s voice cut through the air. ‘This is getting boring. Merlin, if you could step closer? I’d like to kill you now.’

 ‘What? No!’ Arthur said, snapping out of his confused daze. He grabbed Merlin by the sleeve and yanked him behind him. ‘If you want to kill him you’ll have to kill me first.’

 ‘Arthur,’ Merlin hissed with panic, but stopped himself from saying anything else. They’d shifted their attention away from him. Now was his chance. Keeping behind Arthur he pulled out the envelop and read out the spell as quietly as he could manage: ‘Ábir hiera drýcræfta. Beclýse hit wiðinnan écnes, áwunende ungehrepod.’

 Nothing happened. Arthur and Morgana were engaged in a heartfelt argument. Arthur had lost sight of why they were there, Morgana now lashing out at him, explaining how she’d enjoy watching him suffer. Merlin buried the present and concentrated on the spell, reading it out again. This time faster, desperately. He waited. Nothing. His face and hands began to heat up with the increased blood pressure when his heart started hammering away with panic. Arthur jerked back slightly and Merlin saw the gun soar through the air into Morgause’s out held hand.

 ‘Dear brother, you really think your weapons can harm us?’ Morgana leered, sliding an arm around Morgause’s shoulders. She turned to face her new companion and said: ‘Go ahead.’

 He could feel his blood push through each vein, charge into his arteries. Everything buzzed and a searing heat spilled into his blood, into the air he breathed. Merlin moved out from behind Arthur, dropping the scrunched up envelope, just as Morgause raised the gun and fired. Taking in a breath of cool air he moved in front of Arthur’s body, shielding it with his own, as he fought against the strings of power that tried to hold him back.

 He saw the look of wild delight on Morgause’s face in the split second before the bullet broke into his rib cage and tore through him. He realised with horror that she’d enchanted it, the bullet sending out an electric current when it wedged itself inside him. Far away he could hear someone screaming his name but the rushing blood in his ears drowned out everything else.

 The world’s lights went out and when they flooded back he was on the ground, Arthur’s face hovering over him. Everything else was a blur. He was vaguely aware of shouting, windows breaking. People were fighting. Arthur’s hands were pushing down on his chest. When he tried to take a breath it released a painful shock through his body. It didn’t matter. Hot blood was in his throat and left breathing a hopeless chore.

 ‘Oh my god. Merlin, Merlin stay with me-’

 Arthur’s head snapped to the side with an ugly crack. Merlin saw the butt of the gun being pulled back and then thrown to the ground with a clatter. Morgause waved her hand upwards in the air and Arthur was pulled up with it. She swung it to the side and he flew out of Merlin’s sight.

 He felt pain. It was spreading from his chest, the focal point where the intense burning centred. It was getting harder to stay awake but he felt the magic batter his friends, heard their quickening breaths and struggling limbs when finally detained. Blinking away the haze in his eyes he looked up at the room’s ceiling and listened as the crashes and yells died down. Letting his head fall to his right he saw Arthur on his knees. Saw Morgause jerk his head up by the hair to look at Merlin. Everyone else was held in their place either by arms of humans or of witchcraft.

 ‘Go on then, Morgana. You said you wanted to kill him,’ Morgause sneered. Merlin gazed at Arthur, his thoughts fuzzy and sluggish, body tired and aching. Morgana smiled sweetly and spread her hand out towards Merlin. Then her voice and fingers cut into him, dripping poison as they invaded his mind. They spun inside him like a hurricane and shredded him to pieces, his back arching up and an animalistic cry ripping out through the blood in his throat.

 Arthur shouted his name, ‘Merlin!’

 

 

 

 The air stilled. Merlin’s heart stopped. Every face fell into darkness and then a fragment of his life unstitched itself and seemed to glow in the darkness. It whispered the enchantment over and over again, getting louder each time until it was screaming. His ears bled with the noise and then it all stopped. It floated there, part of him, glowing in the shadows.

 The darkness fractured and blew outwards. Silken threads were undone and sliced through, leaving only tatters behind. Merlin was on his feet and everyone in the room was staring, their faces stricken. The air whipped against him and his took in a shaking breath. His pain had fled, replaced by something else which pushed against his mind and body. Immense and ancient it took its own first gulp of air and laughed when Morgana tried to cast a spell.

 ‘What’s happening!?’ she yelled, gazing down at her hands with terror.

 ‘It needn’t matter,’ Morgause hissed. ‘You can kill without magic.’

 Merlin looked to her as Morgause locked her hands around Arthur’s head, preparing to break his neck. He pulled out Arthur’s gift and trained it on the cruel woman. His finger squeezed the trigger. Dark blood began to well in the perfectly round hole between her eyes and she fell back to the floor. Morgana screeched and ran to her side, collapsing over her, consumed by choking tears. Merlin felt the historic creature sigh deeply and he aimed the Glock at Morgana.

 ‘You have a choice. Come with us peacefully, and live out your prison sentence without bother.’

 ‘Or?’ she spat out, glaring at him with hateful eyes.

 ‘Or I kill you here and now,’ he said calmly. No one uttered a word. No one moved. They were all transfixed. Even Arthur. Morgana looked back down to Morgause, running her hand over the limp blonde hair.

 ‘Kill me,’ she murmured, then called it out as a demand: ‘Kill me!’

 Merlin approached her and pressed the tip of the barrel against her temple.

 ‘Merlin,’ Arthur said. His voice was rough from the shouting and quiet with the shock. Merlin knelt down next to her and put his hand against her cheek. She flinched away but he let the warmth seep into her skin with orders to suppress her emotions. It cascaded down through her body and Merlin felt the sting of the jagged edges of her broken heart.

 ‘She was my sister,’ she croaked and finally looked up at him. They shared a stare of understanding, both baring to the other what they were. ‘This world is filled with so much evil, Merlin. Someone needs to stand up against it. That’s what we were doing.’

 ‘I know. You ended up creating a new evil,’ he said softly. He took out handcuffs and locked them around her delicate wrists, feeling pity but no hate. ‘I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Charlotte Wright.’ Merlin rose and faced the rest of the room. ‘You no longer have your power. Don’t resist your arrests. You say you want to stop monsters? Like Uther Pendragon? Why kill innocent bystanders!?’

 No one said anything so he bent down and helped Morgana to her feet and passed her to Arthur. She was complacent but seemed lost. Lonely. It was a look which resonated within him. Merlin noticed how Arthur’s eyes kept glancing to his chest and upon inspection he saw the wound. No more blood left it though, and he realised his magic had been keeping it at bay.

 Funnelling the heat to his chest the colossal power still residing inside drew out the bullet, which dropped to the ground. It sewed his cells to their former functionality and pieced his broken bones back together. Finally he saw his pale skin heal over the gaping hole. That’s when the power left him. As it did he heard the echoes of wars being fought, the singing metal of swords clashing with swords, of joys and pains he’d never known.

 He blinked and felt tears. Intense weariness overcame him and Merlin stumbled away from everyone to one of the windows. It’s glass was gone, having been destroyed with the webs of Old Religion’s magic. He stared out over London, now cast in gloom by the clouded sky and light rainfall. Behind him the armed officers were arriving and helping with arrests. Gaius’ demanded space around Morgause’s body. Some questioned what had happened to all the windowpanes and Kilgharrah silenced them.

 Arthur stepped up next to him. ‘I watched you get shot. Watched you die. I was thrown against walls by . . . nothing. By air.’

 ‘Do you believe in magic?’ Merlin asked him quietly.

 ‘I don’t know what to believe,’ he murmured.

 Merlin smiled sadly and faced him. ‘Want to watch the fireworks with me tonight?’

 ‘Merlin!’ Gwaine called. Arthur didn’t get time to reply when Merlin left. He’d seen the look on Gwaine’s face and by following him saw why he was so shaken. One of the office doors was ajar. Merlin could sense the faulty quiver of magic and when he walked inside he found the source. The man was curled up in the corner, cuffed to the radiator. His lip was split, gruesome bruises over his face and visible skin telling the story for him. Mordred. It looked like he’d spent months in a dungeon, not days in an office. Merlin didn’t want to imagine what kind of witchcraft would lead to this sight, but he did any way.

 He tentatively put his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook it. Mordred stirred and stared blankly before looking up at Merlin. His face contorted into an expression of immeasurable sorrow.

 ‘What did they-’ Merlin stopped when he noticed the ink staining Mordred’s throat. A completed spiral. ‘Morgause told me you were dead.’

 ‘I wish I were after . . .’ Mordred started, looking down and away from Merlin. ‘I’m scared it’s still in me. The magic. Morgana, she-’

 ‘I knew it wasn’t you,’ he said and stroked a curl from Mordred’s forehead. He watched as the man’s eyes brimmed with tears and several dropped down from his dark lashes when he closed his eyes. Merlin examined the handcuffs and with a twitch of a muscle they unlocked.

 ‘How . . . I’ve been trying for days,’ Mordred said, the tears now creeping out in shame.

 ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had magic?’ he inquired. There was an unintended harshness to the question, but Merlin - despite his better self - couldn’t stop seeing the monster he’d faced on Christmas morning.

 ‘I could say the same thing to you,’ Mordred said bitterly.

 He kept finding new wounds wherever he looked. From old and new bruises, some a deep wine colours and others turning that horrible green, to cuts, then even what looked like burn marks. They’d ruined him physically and mentally. ‘You need to go to a hospital.’

 ‘Merlin,’ Mordred pleaded, and Merlin brought himself to stare into those stormy eyes. To see past the tears. ‘I need you to understand. That wasn’t me. I could never . . . never, ever, do something so . . . so horrible to you. Never.’

 Mordred’s magic was brittle and it showed in his eyes. Or that’s what Merlin hoped it was. The waves he’d seen before no longer moved. It was all eerily motionless. He couldn’t feel the cold winds, nor taste the salt in the air. The storm had been stolen from him and Merlin didn’t understand how that could be.

 ‘Gwaine,’ he said and turned away to the doorway.

 ‘Ambulance is on its way. Merlin, he should be taken into custody,’ Gwaine said.

 ‘No.’

 ‘Merlin-’

 ‘He was psychologically manipulated by Morgana and Morgause. Enchanted. However it was done, what Mordred did was not his fault,’ Merlin told him firmly, not entirely convinced but he couldn’t push Mordred any further into whatever shadows now held him.

 Gwaine watched him skeptically. ‘How can you be sure?’

 ‘Just trust me,’ Merlin muttered and looked back to Mordred.

 ‘Do you forgive me?’ he whimpered.

 ‘Yes,’ Merlin bit out. Mordred needed him to say yes. So, he’d say it. The past could never be forgotten though. The lifeless oceans in his eyes conjured up Merlin’s last ounces of pity. Of mercy. Somehow the knowledge that it hadn’t been Mordred, at least not consciously, hadn’t settle his feelings. It left him painfully conflicted though. ‘I need to go now.’

 ‘Arthur,’ Mordred began.

 Merlin paused halfway to the door. ‘What about him?’

 ‘He’s a lucky man . . . to have you,’ he finished.

 Leaving Mordred to be watched over by armed officers he sought out Arthur. ‘Can we go?’

 ‘Yeah, everything’s being dealt with. Including your whole . . . situation,’ he said, gesturing to Merlin’s entire body. Then he saw a flicker of an iciness in Arthur’s eyes. ‘So, Mordred’s alive?’

 ‘Yes, he is. Barely.’

 ‘Are you okay?’

 ‘I will be,’ Merlin assured him.

 ‘It’ll be a few hours until the fireworks,’ he remarked and Merlin beamed at him. ‘Until then, you can rest. I have no idea about any of it, but you look terrible.’

 ‘Thanks,’ he scoffed, entwining his hand with Arthur’s as they headed back to the lift. Some of the officers shot them questioning glances and Elyan looked positively mortified.

 ‘Hey,’ Arthur said, nudging Merlin to the side slightly before they entered the lift. ‘We still did it.’

 ‘Yeah. We did.’

 

 

 

 The drive back to Arthur’s flat was spent in comfortable silence. Merlin ran his finger around the edge of the hole in the kevlar where the bewitched bullet had killed him. He’d died that day. Now he was going to his . . . whatever Arthur was, he was going to his flat to change, to rest. Then they’d spend New Years Eve together. It left him smiling to himself.

 When they arrived Merlin charged ahead of Arthur and the moment he got inside began stripping, going straight to the shower. When he was under the water it started the process of chasing away the day from him skin. Everything the Old Religion had done, everything he’d done with Arthur, with Mordred, it all crashed into him. The fear and the terror was over.

 He shed the last tears and closed his eyes against the water, concentrating on how it felt running down his back, legs, gushing over his head and face. Emerging from the bathroom he felt new. Refreshed. He had magic and he saw beyond the simple matter of the world and he’d get to explore that.

 ‘Merlin!’ Arthur hailed him from the bedroom. Towel secured around his waist, Merlin walked in to see Arthur grinning like a fool.

 ‘What?’ he asked skeptically.

 ‘Look,’ Arthur said, pointing at his wardrobe. Merlin plodded past him and opened one of the doors. He saw several of Arthur’s suits and a few shirts, jackets, things he’d discovered days before upon his first investigation. Then he saw what had changed. All of Arthur’s things had been shoved to the right and on the left hung very familiar articles of clothing. The navy shirt he adored, then the grey coat he hadn’t worn in months, and at least ten more things he’d last seen at his own flat.

 ‘My things,’ was all he managed to say.

 ‘Don’t worry if you’re not okay with it, but I figured since you’ve basically been living here for a week already . . . Why not?’ Arthur babbled. ‘I haven’t brought everything over, so if you’d rather-’

 ‘No, no,’ Merlin said, still staring with awe at the wardrobe’s contents. ‘I’m okay with it. I am very, very, ridiculously okay with it.’

 ‘Really?’ Arthur asked, surprised and a little bit unconvinced.

 ‘Really,’ Merlin confirmed, pulling out some things to put on. ‘But if you think I’m going to keep on doing the chores . . . I mean before I was just being polite, but if I’m moving in you’re going to need to pick up your weight.’

 ‘Less than a minute and already you’re speaking nonsense,’ Arthur said with a sigh and turned Merlin around putting his hand to his head. ‘The heat didn’t get to you did it?’

 ‘It didn’t,’ Merlin muttered, clutching the ball of clothes in front of him.

 ‘I’ll leave you to get changed. I’ve ordered some Egyptian take away and it should be here in twenty minutes,’ Arthur said. He turned to leave but instead pulled Merlin forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ‘Don’t die again, okay?’

 ‘I won’t,’ he murmured. Arthur brushed the side of his face and left. Merlin’s skin tingled where he’d been touched and soaked in the content atmosphere which bloomed around him. Getting dressed he joined Arthur on the sofa, watching pointless TV and spending cherished time in his arms.

 

 

 

 They rose in one of the London Eye’s compartments. Gwen had showed up with Doctor Lance du Lac, who’d apparently been keeping her company for the past week whenever his work would allow it. The two were now sat on the centre bench, staring out of the glass concave walls. Percy and Gwaine were reminiscing about past cases they’d battled together and asking Merlin if he could turn the other into a dog, or a leprechaun as Percy had asked of him. Elyan had brought his long-term girlfriend who seemed to like Merlin and was left exceedingly confused about the questions they kept badgering him with.

 Everyone was taking the new information about Merlin’s powers in different ways. Jokingly, or seriously, or unfazed. Arthur, although it didn’t seem so at first, fell into the final category. He had his hand interlaced with Merlin’s, standing at the barrier and overlooking the Thames, and all the major landmarks.

 They could see everyone who’d camped out for days, waiting to see the show for miles around. Merlin hoped hard enough and to his delight the weather had cleared up, either by luck or by him. The countdown to midnight started and Arthur faced Merlin with a grin plastered on his face.

 ‘Three! Two!’ Gwaine and Percy chanted. When it hit one there was a bang and lights whizzed up into the air, exploding and bursting out into every colour imaginable. Big Ben chimed into the blinding light of fireworks. Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s and even with closed eyes saw the bright flashes. Lingering a moment longer together they finally parted and took in the impressive spectacle. Golden sparks erupted in the night sky, putting the stars to shame, and rained down around them. It was a beautiful onslaught joined by the cheering of thousands below.

 ‘Happy New Year, Merlin,’ Arthur said, resting his forehead against Merlin’s.

 ‘Happy New Year,’ he murmured in return.

 

 

 

 Alarms rang throughout the hospital halls and staff rushed around frantically, trying to calm confused patients while themselves left in the dark. The lights had gone out and everything was bathed in shadow.

 ‘What’s going on!?’ a doctor barked dashing into the room. She came to an immediate stop, hands going limp at her sides. ‘My god . . .’

 The wall had been barged through, a large exit to London’s night now present where there had once been glass and cement. Monitors and drips were left as mangled metal and steel, fluid spilling across the floor. The bed was on its side, sheets soaking up as much of the liquids as they could manage.  Her breath hitched in her throat at the dark stains thrown against the remaining walls, ceiling, floor. Everything had been splattered with it. With blood. Three bodies laid on the ground, twisted and warped in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Shouldn’t be imaginable. The patient wasn’t one of them.

 ‘Someone call the police. Now,’ she stifled out to the silent spectators behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end - There is a 'part two' so no worries ^_^ Happy New Year everyone and thank you for sticking with Merly (and me) through all of this! :D  
> As you might have noticed the second part is now up and running, the months of plotting and writing now done, so please feel free to go see how this all pans out :)


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